


Have you ever seen the rain?

by zation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (I guess if you need a label lol), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Family Dinners, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Blow Jobs, Bottom OMC, Break Up, But mostly angst, Canon Compliant Until End of Season 11, Cas deserves happiness, Cas gets himself a boyfriend, Cas grabs himself a slice, Cas is a hunter with the boys, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel is So Done with Dean Winchester, Cheeky bottom Dean, Clubbing, Coming In Pants, Dancing, Dating, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, Dean feels like shit and Cas isn’t doing so well either, Dean is falling apart, Dean puts his foot in his mouth, Dean tries his very best!, Dean’s a mess, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Endgame Destiel, F/M, Fighting, First Time, Fluff, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate use of demon cuffs, Kissing, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, OMC and OFC are epic, OMC being the beaniest bean that ever beaned, Or Is he?, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, POV Original Character, POV Sam Winchester, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Sam gets down and dirty, Sam gets some for himself, Sam is caught in the middle, Sam ships it but dayum boys, Sex in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Some Humor, Straight Dean, Supportive Sam Winchester, Tags May Change, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, being responsible adults but also having fun, but Destiel is the way y'all, but it gets worse before it gets better okke?, but they gotta work for it, eventually, fuck 15x03, fuck the rest of the seasons lol, going on cases, he fucking deserves it after dealing with all the destiel UST, het couple making out, homophobic discussions (-ish), just know that this is gonna hurt before it gets better but it’s gonna hurt so good, let’s make out own narrative!, mentions of rimming, mostly background cases tho, not so much sexy tension tho…, not so much talking, semi-public make out sessions, service top Castiel, sex without condom, the tags are out of their minds!, there’s a lot of feelings you guys, we stan Stan, well I'll use some of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 81,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21680977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zation/pseuds/zation
Summary: Thoroughly fed up with Dean’s inability to open up emotionally, Cas walks away only to find comfort in another man’s embrace.Or,The one where Dean realizes his mistakes, but will there be enough time?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Original Male Character (ship name: Castan), Sam/Original Female Character (ship name: Salerie)
Comments: 488
Kudos: 571
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Friends

**Author's Note:**

> For Elisa because you are truly wonderful ( ˘ ³˘)❤
> 
> (original idea by Elisa, not so much as a prompt, but as an urgent need for Destiel to get their shit together lol (or, in her words “for them to get their heads out of their asses and replace them with their cocks))
> 
> (this was actually not meant to be one of those “fix-its” for episode 15x03 because surprisingly (or perhaps not so surprisingly considering how Destiel has been acting for the last decade and more) this idea was actually given to me before that devastating episode aired but it took me a while to get started on posting lol)
> 
> (or you know what? maybe it _can_ be a fix-it for that episode because fuck that episode. Yes! I’m getting on the bandwagon! Woo!)
> 
> Title is of course from Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song [with the same title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gu2pVPWGYMQ), thank you Elisa for the great suggestion!
> 
> Set after the end of season 11 but there will be no BMoL or resurrection of Mary. So canon up until the last few minutes of s11e23 (Alpha and Omega) and then this starts up instead of season 12. Watch out for spoilers for everything up until that point and perhaps some after ;D
> 
> Shout-out and all the love in the world to the real MVP, my beta BeeCas! My heart aches with affection for youuu ❤❤❤

Castiel felt as if his body was made out of lead. Part of him wanted to escape it, to go into his true form and soar away from all the pain. But no, of course he couldn’t. The broken husks of his wings twitched painfully and his grace rushed to correct the pain, erase it. At least that pain it was able to soothe. 

The ache within his heart was another matter. Though it coiled around his insides, twisting them cruelly, there was nothing his desperate grace could do to amend that. Dean was dead and just thinking about it felt too immense. Felt unreal. 

The ride back to the bunker had been quiet, to break it seemed a horrendous crime. Even now, words seemed hard to come by and in the end it was the heavy bunker door that interrupted their mourning with its loud creaking. 

Castiel drew a deep breath as he and Sam started descending the stairs into the war room. It looked exactly as they had left it, Dean’s presence so strong in the room that Castiel just wanted to turn around and leave again. But he couldn’t, and wouldn’t. He had promised Dean to take care of Sam and he would, even if it would kill him. 

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” the words felt like glass. “If you want to talk…” what could he say? What could he do? Nothing seemed sufficient, his ineffectiveness made worse by his own grief and the fact that his grace wouldn’t accept that Dean was truly gone. It kept searching for him, waiting for his soul’s answering call and it _hurt_. “I’m here if you need anything.”

Sam stopped, head bowed and hands in his jacket pockets. “Yeah,” he sighed deeply. “Yeah, I know, I just…”

Castiel rounded him, fingers twitching, a hug seeming prudent but somehow also as if it would make everything worse. Sam peeked at him and Castiel saw a young man, younger by far than Sam’s actual age. A little boy, lost and alone, robbed of his big brother and the constant support he had been. 

Actions and words seemed inadequate but Castiel stepped in and pulled Sam closer anyway. The big man melted against him, shoulders shaking, and it was through gritted teeth and with the aid of his grace that Castiel remained standing there and not crumbling himself. 

They only stood for a moment, though, before Sam’s phone rang and he pulled out of Castiel’s stiff embrace, snuffling and pushing his hair out of his face as he gathered himself enough to answer. He didn’t look at the caller-ID first, instead just swiping to answer and putting it to his ear, looking away from Castiel but not stepping back. 

“Hello?”

Castiel remained where he was as well, comforted by Sam’s closeness, but he was pulled to awareness immediately at Sam’s next words.

“Dean? Wait, I’ll put you on speaker!”

Castiel stared wide-eyed at Sam, dumbfounded even as his grace swelled with hope and delight. It had known, he could feel it now, but he had been too caught up in what he had thought was the truth that he had forgotten to listen to his innermost self. 

“Dean?” he asked, voice raspy and shaky as he stared down at Sam’s phone, the screen clearly displaying a connected call. “Are you…?”

“I ain’t dead,” Dean sounded very annoyed for some reason. “Don’t worry though, the bomb is gone, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

But how? How could it be?

“What happened?” Sam was also shaking, both his voice and his hand.

“Amara and me had a talk and then she and Chuck had a heart-to-heart, and they left. Like, Earth. Listen, I’ll tell you all about it later,” he swore and a loud rustling was heard in the background. “For now you gotta come get me, I don’t know where the fuck I am.”

A smile spread over Castiel’s face. “Pray to me and I will know.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, why didn’t I think about that?” Dean groused. “Fucking Chuck sending me to some nonsense park, jeez.”

“Dean?” oh Sam’s voice was so small now, Castiel wanted to hug him again. “Are you really okay?”

“I’m starving and lost in a forest, other than that I’m fucking peachy.”

“Hang up and pray to me,” Castiel said, still smiling, his grace soaring, filling him with a sense of belonging like nothing he had ever experienced, not even with the Heavenly Host.

“Fine, pick up dinner on the way,” Dean demanded, clearly still annoyed, and hung up.

Sam just stared at his phone for a moment and then his knees gave out. Castiel caught him enough to spare his knees from the unforgiving bunker floor and Sam clung to him more than necessary. And it was okay, was wonderful to sit there for a moment while Sam gathered his wits. Was even greater when Castiel heard Dean’s pray resounding within him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the heavens, basking in the feeling of Dean’s soul latching onto his grace once more.

* * *

The months that followed the departure of Chuck and Amara were turbulent but not in the way Cas and the Winchesters were used to. No new world-ending threats emerged but the amount of creepy crawlies under the beds didn’t diminish and Dean for one relished some good old hunting. 

Sam had even gotten in contact with other hunters, spread out over the US and though he was loathe to admit it, Dean knew Sam was itching to start up a hunter central, similar to what they had had with Bobby. 

Dean, for his part, was fine with just the three of them hunting like normal and eagerly signed up on any and all bad omens they found. Having such a near death experience certainly changed your perspective on things and though he still had nightmares he at least drank less. Sam said it was because Cas was sticking around but Sam was so full of shit.

The truth was that Cas _was_ hanging out with them though. He’d taken up permanent (or so Dean hoped) residence in room number 15, though he spent most of his evenings reading in the library. 

“No more sacrificing yourself for the Angel cause,” Dean had said shortly after his own “revival”, so to speak. “If you’re here, you’re _here_.”

And Cas had nodded mutely and fuck Sam for saying that Dean’s eyes had been wet. The point was, _Sammy_, that Cas had been so relieved to find Dean alive that he had said he wanted to remain with the Winchesters, hunting things and saving people, and Dean had been so relieved to hear _that_, that he’d made Cas promise not to run off again. And it had worked, seemingly. 

To be honest, Dean wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead he was just enjoying this semi-downtime and the presence of his two favorite people, seasoned with the occasional visit to or from other hunters and friends. And of course the hunts, which were almost fun nowadays. Even Crowley was keeping quiet on his end, the amount of hunts involving demons less frequent overall. Guess surviving a showdown between fucking _God_ and his sister was enough to make everyone tranquil for a while. 

This evening marked the fifth in a row without any supernatural signs and Sam had declared that they were celebrating with beer and pizza in front of a good movie. Dean was so fucking down with that and had just jumped into the shower for a scrub while they waited for Sam to come back with the pizza. Living in the bunker had a _lot_ of perks (no rent, for one) but take-out wasn’t one of them. 

He took too long in the shower, apparently, because when he got to the TV room Sam was already there and Cas was sitting on one end of the couch, munching on a piece of pizza as if the hot cheese didn’t bother him and knowing him, it probably didn’t.

“Thought you didn’t eat?” he said with a grin and walked over Cas’ legs to get to the middle of the second-hand couch they’d put in the man-cave last month. It seated three but was roomier than it looked and Dean loved it even though it was a little sunken in.

“It’s one of the few things I miss about being human. I’m trying to ease back into it.”

Dean snorted and snagged himself a beer and a piece too. Sam was busy putting out plates for everyone like a grandma and Dean ignored him as he turned his attention to the TV (though he did bump his knee against Sam’s because thank you for getting the food. Sam just smiled to himself). 

“So what are we watching?”

When he leaned back his seat slumped to the side and he slid closer to Cas which, like, no homo but Cas’ thigh was fucking _warm_. The angel was always so hot to the touch. Dean left his leg where it was.

“Eyewitness,” Sam stated and leaned back too. “It’s a crime show.”

“Oh yeah, you told me about it,” Dean only half listened because when Cas leaned forward to dispense of his napkin it made his leg press more against Dean’s. 

“Yeah I started it last week but it’s fine, you’ll catch up in no time.”

“As long as there’s a murder or two I’m good here with my pizza,” Dean grinned, making Cas chuckle.

“You’d think that with everything you do, this wouldn’t feel as appealing to watch.”

“You’d think so yeah,” Sam grinned too.

“And you’d be wrong,” Dean concluded cheekily and couldn’t help but notice that Cas’ shoulder bumped his when the angel leaned back again. Again, this was a _roomy_ three-seat couch. Not that Dean was complaining, just saying. “Wait, there’s no douches with sunglasses, is there?”

Sam laughed out loud and Dean would never not love the sound of his little brother all happy like this. “Don’t worry, no Horatios in this one.”

“Then I’m good.”

And it was good, for a pretty long while. The pizza was awesome, the beer was quenching, and Dean felt snug and safe between his brother and his ang—Cas, between Sam and Cas. Happy, at peace, almost a little drowsy. 

And then it all went to shit because why the fuck not, right? Apparently, _apparently_, this was one of _those_ kinds of shows. Where there was gay… _stuff_. And not like, flamboyant funny gay, the kind you could laugh away. But _gay_, two dudes in love and kissing and—and Cas was sitting _right_ there and why was Dean even thinking about him?

Look, Dean wasn’t a homophobe. To each their own and all that crap but why the _fuck_ did he have to watch two guys suck face _while_ he was sitting right next to the guy he wanted to suck faces with and no, just fucking no, Dean didn’t want to kiss Cas _shut the fuck up_. 

Truth be told, Dean didn’t even know when he’d first thought about Cas’ lips. Or his hands. Or the way it felt when Cas’ grace healed him. For instance, did Sam get a little lowkey aroused every time Cas healed him too? Dean thought not but he wasn’t going to ask. So yes, maybe he wanted… something with Cas? Wanted to, perhaps, hold his hand without a life threatening situation demanding it.

But at the same time it wasn’t like Dean _wanted _it, right? He was just curious, and he’d had a dry spell for too long, and he almost _died_ a few months ago. Wasn’t like he’d been thinking about Cas _before_ that. 

He felt his whole body stiffen with uncomfortableness when the scene dragged on and fucking hell, it felt like watching a sex scene with your parents. Yeah, that was totally how he felt. He nearly jumped when Cas moved his arm to take a sip of his own beer and Dean’s mind irrationally latched on to the fact that Cas rarely ate because he “tasted the molecules” but he sure could drink like no one’s business.

“Jesus fuck, you shoulda warned me, Sammy,” the words were out of his mouth before he could think about it. “I mean fun for them but I’d rather not watch, right?”

Beside him, Sam rolled his eyes. “Welcome to the 21st century, Dean.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it doesn’t add anything to their characters to make them gay, if anything it’s more sexist that you gotta shove it down our throats.”

Cas turned to look at him with a hard frown. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

Well, no. Dean actually thought it was pretty neat that gays could be represented as something other than the token funny best friend in movies. Not like he was going to say _that_ to Cas’ stupid face, though.

“Whatever,” he crossed his arms, a chill going through him when Cas pulled away from his arm. “All I’m saying is I would rather watch two chicks make out over two _dudes_ any day of the week, amirite Sammy?”

Dean desperately needed his little brother to back him up because he knew he was screwing this up (couldn’t explain himself well enough) but if Sam agreed then it could be turned into a joke. Haha, what a funny homophobic, sexist joke, _right_? But Sam looked away, shaking his head, and Dean could feel Cas’ displeasure like a living creature breathing down his neck.

“So, basically what you are saying is that you would never be okay with two men kissing?” Cas demanded, voice all Angel of the Lord, tired of your bullshit, _Dean_, and Dean’s heart shriveled up. “With two men being in love?”

“Who the fuck mentioned anything about love?” Dean pressed his thighs together, hunching down, trying to protect himself. “I mean fine, they can make out or whatever, but two dudes can’t really fall in love with each other, right? That’s just… weird.”

Cas stared at Dean, shock evident on his face and what was the fucking deal anyway? Dean just wanted to joke around a bit and it was Sammy’s fault for not giving him a heads up in the first place. Plus Cas had to push on buttons Dean had tried so hard to protect all these years and it was his fault too. Dean was just…

“Cas,” Sam sighed when the angel stood up abruptly, leaving Dean colder than he’d ever felt before.

“No,” Cas stated, making his way to the door, back to them but his presence still huge. “I’m going out.”

“Oh come on,” Dean snorted, leg jittering in the wake of Cas’ absence, the chill taking up residence in his lower abdomen. “Where are _you _going at nine on a Friday evening?”

“_Out_,” Cas’ voice boomed from the hallway and Dean shrunk down against the couch.

The silence that followed Cas’ departure was extremely loaded but Dean stubbornly kept his head down and refused to meet Sam’s imploring eyes. It took a while but he eventually gave up and turned to clean up the table instead, shutting off the affronting TV-series.

Dean opened his mouth when Sam was halfway through the room but closed it again when his brother turned to him, sighing agitatedly. 

“Well fucking done, Dean,” he said then, the words cutting deeper than Dean had thought they would. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

He left before Dean could come up with a clever response and somehow that made him feel even worse. And honestly, what had he even said that had been _so _bad that it made Cas leave? Wasn’t like he called him useless or the root to all of their problems or something shitty like that. And Dean sure as _fuck _hadn’t known Cas was such a trooper for the Pride community, that was for fucking sure.

He sat for a long while in the dark TV room, listening for the sounds of Cas coming back, stewing in self-inflicted misery.

* * *

Hearing Dean say something so cruel so carelessly had felt like getting a bucket of ice water thrown in his face and even so Castiel found his face flushed hot with anger as he stalked out of the bunker. 

These last months since Dean basically came back from the dead had been wonderful, so filled with happy memories and excitement (and some dangerous hunts that made Castiel want to wrap the brothers in bubble wrap to protect them) and Castiel couldn’t honestly say he’d ever been happier.

Sam seemed very pleased that Castiel had decided to stay by their side and though Castiel sometimes listened in to angel radio he didn’t feel a need to involve himself anymore. They had rejected him, and in his opinion rightfully so, and he accepted that. When the time came and Sam and Dean were no longer walking the Earth, maybe then Castiel would seek reconciliation so that he would be able to spend time with the brothers in Heaven but at the moment he was at peace. 

Other hunters in the community still seemed apprehensive of him but also accepted him simply because he was with the Winchesters and that felt good too. Not everyone knew he was an angel, of course, some just saw him as a kind of awkward hunter who for some reason was part of the elite circle. Castiel didn’t care what people thought of him as long as there was no trouble and for the moment life was simple. Filled with minor league hunts (as Dean called them) interspersed with calm evenings in the bunker. Castiel entertained himself with translating old lore books, much to Sam’s gratefulness and Dean’s amusement because apparently that wasn’t entertaining enough. They also watched a lot of TV, something that Castiel previously had enjoyed very much.

And then there was Dean. Dean, who was all around Castiel suddenly. Now that they spent so much more time together, Castiel had slowly come to realize that what he had thought was strong admiration was in fact something else. Because he felt admiration for Sam’s intellect and resilience just as he did for Dean’s, but he never envisioned himself kissing Sam. Never wanted to take _his_ hand and lace their fingers together. Never felt his grace trill and sparkle with electricity when Sam touched him.

Castiel had been teased about his bond with Dean before, most notoriously by angels and Crowley, but he had never paid it much heed. He and Dean were best friends and that was a strong bond indeed. But the long nights alone in the library had not only been spent translating old texts and when Castiel first realized how much he enjoyed thinking about Dean naked he knew he was in trouble.

And yet, it felt as if there was something there between them, didn’t it? Because it wasn’t only Castiel who got teased for enjoying Dean’s company, Dean got plenty of jabs himself and responded with much fluster every time, something Castiel had enjoyed because he had interpreted it as the man trying to hide what he believed to be unrequited emotions. 

Now, though, it stood clear to Castiel that Dean got flustered when people and monsters alike called Castiel his boyfriend because Dean thought that love between two men was disgusting and it _hurt_.

He stopped walking, only then realizing that he hadn’t stopped just outside the bunker like he had intended. Instead he had continued down the road to the nearby town of Lebanon and he stopped to groan up at the skies. At least the slate gray clouds kept their rain to themselves. 

What Castiel wouldn't give to be able to fly right now. He ruffled his wings, felt the familiar ache in the burnt joints and the accompanying rush of his grace to amend it. He should head back, if he thought about it he believed he was being stupid anyway. 

He started back but only managed a few steps before anger took over again and this time his grace reared up as well, as if to attack a target. He fisted his hands, suddenly so fed up with the whole situation. After _everything_ they had been through, why was this so hard? Of course, he realized with fierce rage, of course Dean didn’t actually think like that. He didn’t think gay love was disgusting or unfathomable. He was just afraid. 

Afraid of his own emotions, afraid of Castiel’s affection, afraid to be different and to be _seen_. 

Some of that most definitely stemmed from the fact that he hadn’t exactly had a normal upbringing but a lot of it was also internalized and Castiel understood that it was hard, that it wouldn’t take just a couple of tranquil months to get over such a big hurdle. When he thought about it like that, Dean’s rejection didn’t hurt as much. What _did_ hurt was the way the man had handled the whole situation. 

How he pushed Castiel away so harshly when Castiel hadn’t even asked for anything. Actually, Castiel would have been fine with nothing developing between them (if it turned out that Dean didn’t actually love him like that) but what wasn’t fine was how carelessly Dean had treated the whole thing. As if it didn’t mean anything to condemn a whole society (and Cas) just to protect your own heart.

“Fuck,” he swore lowly, voice gravelly in his anger. “Fuck this.”

Castiel was tired. He was old and battle-weary and he was _done_.

Without hesitation, he turned his back to the bunker and continued walking on the road to Lebanon. He didn’t have a plan in mind, just knew that for now he needed to be anywhere but near Dean.

* * *

Stan Andersen looked around the bar (Tina’s Grill), feeling morose. As was appropriate on a Friday evening, the place was as packed as a bar in such a small town could be and though Stan was usually a sociable guy, he had never felt less inclined to talk to anyone. 

Some of these people he knew, had even worked with them, and some were new, perhaps passersby, but none seemed to catch his interest. He drew some looks himself, a well-built and relative handsome man sitting alone as he was. Stan was used to it, he was tall and broad-shouldered, liked to hit the gym enough that his biceps told of his efforts, and his blonde hair accompanied with his blue eyes gave him an overall Scandinavian look even though he was a red-blooded American. Stares he was used to and though he was a little shy to the nature he still usually enjoyed the company and attention he got. 

Not tonight, though. 

Some men, and more women, had approached him but he’d turned them down explaining he was waiting for someone and he was not lying. That she was almost thirty minutes late was another thing.

“Come on, Val,” he sighed to himself, sipping his Cosmopolitan slowly as he waited by the bar, back to the rest of the rowdy room.

Valerie Williams was his best friend, had been since they were in middle school and she confessed her undying love for him and he’d broken down crying because he’d known already then that he was gay but he hadn’t wanted to lose her friendship. She hadn’t abandoned him, though, and they’d been thick as thieves ever since. Val was a spunky woman, and the one with enough courage to make Stan come out of his shell. She was his rock. 

She had been there for him when he had come out to his parents and gotten kicked out of the house, she’d moved to Lebanon with him when he got a job at the local preschool, and she’d been there for him when his boyfriend James left him a couple of months back. 

Stan felt worse just thinking about that. About James’ snort, the “I haven’t been in love with you for the last two years”, the eye-roll when Stan cried because Stan apparently cried too much. Stan couldn’t help it, though, he’d thought they were in love, had even planned on asking James to move in together. What a far-fetched dream that seemed now. 

He sighed heavily and thought about just giving up for tonight when Val of course called, as if she’d heard him.

“Tell me you’re outside?” 

That was a rude greeting… So maybe he’d had more than one Cosmopolitan, he wasn’t _that_ drunk.

“I’m sorry, boo,” Val sounded devastated. “Frannie had an emergency at work, I had to help with Dougie.”

Fran worked at a hospital and for her to have to go into work at this late hour it had to be important, Stan thought. Fran was Val’s sister and Doug was Fran’s son, the best little man Stan had ever met. He was pretty sure he would never have kids but if he did, he hoped he would have one as awesome as the little 4-year-old. He was just lucky Fran lived in the next town over so that Dougie wasn’t in his classes or the tyke would be running the whole show because it wasn’t as if Stan was ever able to say no to him. Just thinking about Doug’s happy face as he literally climbed on Stan’s body, swinging from his arm, made Stan grin.

“Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“No seriously, Stannie, I’m _so_ sorry.”

He knew she was, she would never stand him up intentionally. “It’s fine. I think I’ll finish my drink and head home anyway.”

“You should stay,” she said, her tone lower now, serious. “Grab a win for yourself to distract from everything bad. I worry, Stan.”

“I know,” he glanced around the room again. “But I don’t think this is the place, when has it ever been?” he shook his head, smiling as if the memory of getting gay bashed in high school by men very similar to the ones in this very room was a fond one. At least that had stopped when he grew bigger and stronger. Nowadays people mostly settled for sour glances and the occasional slur and that Stan could take.

“I’m just saying, you need to get your mind off James.”

He bit the inside of his cheek when unexpected emotions rose at the mention of his ex’ name. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, James had hurt him but it was done and over. Except…

“He called me today.”

Val made a scandalized sound. “And that’s why you wanted to meet up, I’m so fucking sorry. Why don’t you come here?”

To be honest it sounded kind of nice. He wanted to see Val and hanging out with Dougie always made him feel better. But at the same time he feared he would get emotional and he didn’t want the boy to see him like that, even though he was pretty sure Doug would be sleeping anyway.

“No, I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Did he say something?”

Of course he had, James had said a lot of _words_, but had they meant anything? Not really. Tired platitudes that just made Stan feel empty inside were hardly worth mentioning anyway.

“It’s fine, Val, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I’ll cook you lunch?”

“Thank you but I’d rather not die of food poisoning. Maybe we could have dinner here at Tina’s?”

Val made a sound as if she was deeply hurt but Stan knew she was only faking it; her cooking skills were notoriously bad.

“Well okay then, if you’re sure?”

“I am,” he smiled and only then noticed that his drink was already empty. “Give Dougie a kiss from me.”

“Love you, honey bear.”

After their call ended, Stan thought he really ought to take himself up on his own suggestion and go home but he’d flagged down Tina to get another Cosmo before he even knew what he was doing. She just winked at him and slid it over, keeping his tab open for a little while longer.

He twirled the glass in his giant hand, well aware that it looked out of place for him to be drinking something like this but he liked it and Val always told him that as long as what he liked didn’t hurt anyone then he shouldn’t be afraid of doing it. He smiled to himself when he remembered her using those exact words many times when his insecurities got the better of him.

The thought instantly drew his attention to the tattoo he’d had made on his back when he came out to his family; an image of a broken garden with withering plants and a half-open gate leading into a new, vivid and bright world, made to represent the freedom he had felt when he finally found the courage to live a life without lies. A constant reminder that no matter what, he had stepped through that gate and away from a life that slowly killed him inside, into a world where he could truly live and where he would never have to hide his true self again. 

He smiled unexpectedly, already feeling better, as predicted from talking to Val. In the background he heard the front door open but he didn’t turn to look, too occupied with taking a sip of his drink. 

The crowd behind him were loud, laughing happily and singing as they played rounds of darts and pool. Tina’s grill offered pub related amusement on one side of the bar and a seated diner on the other side, though that side was mostly empty now, people having moved over to drink and play games. 

Stan remained by the bar, though, accompanied only by Tina, the owner and only bartender. 

“What’ll you have, handsome?”

Stan looked up, surprised because he’d _just_ gotten his drink and wasn’t at all ready to have another one. That was when he noticed that she was in fact addressing a man who had come to sit on the stool next to Stan’s. He almost jerked, so surprised by the closeness (there were other available stools) and the fact that he hadn’t noticed the man arriving. He managed to hold himself back, though, and snuck a hopefully furtive glance instead.

“Whisky,” the man answered and holy hell, his voice was _deep_. “Neat.”

“What kind?” Tina asked, showing with a wave of her arm the assortment behind her. “Any special brand?”

“Smokey,” the man rumbled, stoic, face unreadable. “Make it a double.”

Tina nodded and turned to fix his order but Stan couldn’t tear his eyes away and though he was aware that he wasn’t so much glancing as he was staring now, he didn’t care. The man was _gorgeous_. High cheekbones, angular face, inviting lips, straight nose, his hair thick and messy, and he smelled like summer rain, like a promise of something enticing to come.

He didn’t so much as throw Stan a look, even though he would have had to notice that he was being stared at, and that made Stan want to strut his stuff for some reason. The feeling was unfamiliar to him and he felt a little embarrassed but mostly he just wanted the man to _see_ him. 

Tina returned with the whisky and the man threw it back before she’d had time to even move away. His slender fingers wrapped around the tumbler and oh God, the way his throat looked as he worked down the liquid was…

Stan knew he was making big eyes and he met Tina’s astonished eyes as well, though he suspected that she was more surprised about the man so easily taking so much whisky in one gulp than how delicious the man looked while doing it.

“Again,” he stated when he put the glass back down. 

Tina looked dubiously at him. “Take it easy.”

The man squinted then and shit, Stan unconsciously closed his legs when the first tendrils of arousal licked through him. See, the thing about Stan was that he was very much a bottom, but due to his big body many men tended to judge him the wrong way so it was seldom that he got to truly experience being topped. That squint, though…

“_Again_.”

Tina just nodded and filled the glass once more but this time the man seemed content to sip slowly, slumping in his seat as he fingered the glass. Tina remained in front of them for a moment longer, gave Stan a confused look, and then left them alone. Stan felt as if he was on pins and needles, the need to talk to the man so overwhelming that he said the first thing that came to mind.

“You look like you either lost a lot of money or your heart.”

The man looked at him then, but didn’t seem surprised to be addressed, as if he _had_ known he was being observed. Stan didn’t know if he was supposed to be embarrassed about being caught or not and to be honest he was just too thrilled to have the man’s attention on him to even care. 

The man’s eyes were a deep blue, not as light as Stan’s own, and though the man looked to be only about five to ten years older than Stan himself his eyes looked wise beyond his years and Stan felt instantly drawn. 

“I supposed love, since I’ve never been very rich,” he stated then, and looked back at his whisky, corners of his mouth turned downward. “But to have lost something you must have acquired it in the first place, yes?” he shook his head and took a sip. “So then no, to both of your suggestions.”

Stan’s heart tugged for some reason. “Unrequited love?”

What the hell kind of question was that?! Stan felt brazen and bold, bolstered by this stranger’s whole presence, but that question has still been too inappropriate. 

“Yes,” the man surprised him by answering. “I didn’t realize my own feelings until they had grown too vast and when I did, I also realized I’m in love with an idiot,” the man sighed harshly, holding his hands out as if to choke someone. “He’s just _so…_”

Stan underwent a rollercoaster of emotions during that one admission. He got very disappointed that the man was already in love with someone, he got happy to hear the man was single, he got sad for the same reason (because he couldn’t help but want good things for the man), and he got ecstatic that the man apparently was into men (and also startled by how easily the man admitted his sexuality to a stranger, startled and impressed).

By the end of it Stan’s heart was pumping wildly, working on that excess adrenaline like no one’s business. 

“I get it,” he chuckled softly. “I’ve had some pretty nasty men in my life too, who said dating the same sex would be easier, huh?”

The man turned to regard him and Stan almost held his breath, his words having been deliberate to see how the man would react to hearing Stan too was into men.

“I’m sure you deserve better.”

Stan almost got a lump in his throat. “I… thank you,” he all but melted when the man quirked his lips in a barely there smile. Feeling bold once again, he held out his hand. “I’m Stan, by the way.”

“Castiel.”

A spark of electricity went through Stan when they touched hands and he reveled in it because damn, it had to be a sign of physical compatibility that he already felt this good, right? Just shaking hands with the man—Castiel—felt amazing. And hell, Stan had always been a hold-hands-on-a-date kind of guy so this was shaping up nicely. Castiel’s hand was smaller than Stan’s, physically, but somehow Stan felt dwarfed in the man’s grasp, small and dainty, and he felt yet another lick of arousal at the thought of Castiel putting those hands on other parts of his body. 

“That’s a cool name,” he said with a smile, although he was a little uncertain if the man had just made it up.

Castiel shrugged. The motion looked a little aborted, as if he was carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“I’m aware that it’s unusual. You can call me Cas, if you like. My friends usually do.”

Stan _hungered_ to be called this man’s friend so he nodded with a smile. 

“Sure, if you’re comfortable with it?”

Cas nodded and took a bigger sip of his drink, silent, and Stan got the impression that Cas was maybe a little introverted or perhaps just bad at small talk. It made him smile anew, the trait adorable to him. Cas looked like a man who worked at some kind of office, and though his suit was rumpled and he had bags under his eyes he still struck Stan as someone important. 

They sat in silence for a moment, Cas sipping his whisky and Stan positively bursting with the urge to start up a conversation again.

“So, are you from around here?”

He sounded too eager, God…

Cas looked at him for a moment, head tilted to the side and regarding. Stan averted his eyes, feeling his face heat.

“Not originally, no,” Cas was quirking his lips again when Stan looked back up. “But I suppose you could say I live here now, I share a place with my two best friends.”

Having roommates at his age? Well, Stan wouldn’t judge but he did bookmark that in his brain for later contemplation. 

“Here in Lebanon?”

“Just at the outskirts.”

Oh Stan had _so_ many questions because he had been living here for a long time and Lebanon was far from big, and yet he’d never seen the man before. But he sensed that maybe this was as far as he should push this matter tonight, so he just smiled.

“Sounds nice, I have an apartment not far from here.”

Oh. My. God. Stan wanted to smack himself in the face for how insinuating that had sounded.

Sure, the man was very handsome and just mysterious enough to be sexy but Stan wasn’t aiming at being a total flirt right now. He actually wanted to get to know Cas. Especially considering how weary the man had looked earlier. Stan was a kind guy, he hated for anyone to suffer any kind of ailment and that was the reason he stuck with for talking to the man.

Cas, however, didn’t make a remark on how Stan’s words had sounded like a suggestion. He just nodded and took another sip of his whisky.

“What’s it like, living here?”

Stan felt bewildered for a moment because Cas had _just_ said he also lived here but he supposed Cas meant living in the center, as far as Lebanon had a center…

“Nice. I mean, it’s a small town, but,” he glanced over his shoulder at some of the loudmouths behind them. None of them had ever really given him trouble but he knew some of the looks he got weren’t completely friendly. “It’s nice.”

Cas followed his gaze but didn’t say anything about it.

“So, what do you do?”

Stan blinked. “For a living?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I understand that is something you usually ask when you wish to befriend someone.”

Could… could awkwardness be a kink? Because Cas sure was awkward in an adorable way and Stan couldn’t help but feel all mushy inside. He grinned wide, ear-to-ear, which of course caught Cas’ attention but he only tilted his head to the side again. Stan almost wanted to kiss his cheek.

“I’m a preschool teacher.”

“Really?” Cas said, astonished, and Stan waited for it, for the comment about how his physical appearance didn’t fit it and how he should have a job like a firefighter instead. Little did people know that Stan was actually terrified of fire. “That must be so rewarding.”

Stan opened his mouth to defend his choice of occupation but promptly shut it again. He ended up kind of just staring at Cas for a moment, so surprised he didn’t know what to say.

“It… yeah, it really is.”

“Children are amusing,” Cas stated, almost a little smugly and yes, it was official, Stan _had to_ get to know this man for real. 

“Yeah, I love them,” he said with a soft smile. “And considering I probably won’t be getting any of my own… I dunno, this seems like a good substitute.”

“Why won’t you have children of your own?” Cas’ brow knitted in confusion. “Oh, is it a physical thing? I’m sorry, that was very rude of me.”

“No, no,” Stan smiled, watching how Cas returned a tentative smile of his own. His left shoulder twitched under his overcoat and now that Stan thought about it, it was only early September and the weather was still hot enough for such a coat to be too warm. “At least I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my swimmers,” what a weird thing to discuss with a total stranger… But if Stan was honest he wasn’t the least uncomfortable. “I just meant, you know, with being gay and all…” he lowered his voice for that last part. Out and proud, but also cautious because old habits die hard. “It’s harder.”

Cas just looked at him the whole time, with an open expression (almost blank) as Stan stumbled through the whole thing. 

“I see,” he said, no judgement in his tone. “I suppose it would be more difficult.”

“Yes exactly,” Stan was kind of ready to leave the topic of him right now. He knew himself, he wanted to get to know _Cas_. “What about you? Kids?”

“No,” Cas smiled and it was a heartbreaking little thing. “No I will never have biological children.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Stan reached out without thinking, putting a hand on Cas’ arm and there was that electrical pulse again. Muted, as if the attraction was hindered by Cas’ clothes and maybe that was true because skin-on-skin contact was always better. 

“It’s fine,” Cas tilted his head again and Stan was starting to understand that Cas did that a lot. “But you should know that if I had had children I would have liked them to have a teacher like you.”

“W-what?” Stan stuttered, pulling away with a nervous little laugh, the praise instantly going to his heart. “You don’t even know me.”

“True,” Cas conceded with a little smile. “But I can sense that you are kind and you seem intelligent, both good traits for caring for children. Also, with such an impressive physique you would surely be able to protect them if they needed it.”

Stan’s brain kind of short-circuited on the _impressive physique_ and he just waved his hand, making a shushing sound while Cas tilted his head _again_. He was regarding Stan intently now, as if trying to understand why Stan was getting flustered and that was almost too much for Stan right now. 

“I’m not _that_… I mean, I hit the gym sometimes, but…”

“In any regard, I am very impressed. You are very aesthetically pleasing.”

Stan thought he would _combust_. “Do you want another one?” he pressed out, waving at Cas’ nearly empty whisky tumbler. 

“Oh,” Cas squinted down at his glass as if it would answer life’s mysteries. “No, thank you. Whisky is Dean’s preferred drink,” he sighed wearily. “It seems that I can never escape him, try as I might.”

So the man Cas was in love with was named Dean? Stan suddenly felt like meeting the man, sizing him up. Clearly he wasn’t good enough for Cas if he didn’t see the man as Stan saw him. Sweet and kind, and absolutely smoking. Stan kind of couldn’t wait for Cas to stand up so he would get a good look at the man’s complete look, and even more than that he wanted to take Cas home and talk all night long. 

“Then, something else?” Stan suggested, wanting to get the carefree atmosphere back, regretting having reminded Cas of his love. 

“What are you drinking?” Cas asked then, eyes focused on Stan’s almost full glass.

“Um, it’s a Cosmopolitan, but,” he swallowed, looking down at the glass too. “It’s not really a _manly_ drink.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s my favorite,” Stan almost whispered, only now realizing how terrifying it could still be to be so _out_ around strangers. 

Sure, Cas seemed nice enough and Stan was definitely into him in a way he hadn’t thought he would be for a while now after James, but he was still a stranger and you never knew, maybe something like a “girly” drink would be what pushed him away.

“Then I’ll have one too, thank you.”

Stan whipped his head up, warmth flooding his whole body. “Yeah?”

Cas quirked his lips as if he found Stan amusing. “Yes, please.”

It didn’t stop at one drink and Stan soon found himself tipsy and enjoying Cas’ company even more than he thought he would. The man had a weird sense of humor, sometimes borderlining dry, and Stan loved it. Every time he managed to put a smile on Cas’ face his heart fluttered and when he made Cas laugh out loud Stan felt such an immense sense of accomplishment that he almost dove in and kissed Cas right then and there. 

They sat at the bar for far longer than Stan had intended and yet when it seemed it was time to go he didn’t want it to end. For most of their time together they had talked about Stan, Cas cleverly diverting attention and directing the conversation in such a way that Stan found himself gushing about his job or hobbies or time in college for a long while until he noticed. 

“I suppose it’s getting late,” he said reluctantly when Tina had given him a meaningful look for the umpteenth time. He and Cas were far from the last ones left but he supposed she would have to start herding someone at some point. 

“Yes,” Cas said and got to his feet, immediately accepting the end and Stan panicked for a moment.

“I really liked talking to you,” he blurted out and wanted to smack himself in the face. He was a 35-year-old man, why did he have to sound like a crushing teenager when he spoke to Cas?

“I enjoyed our time as well,” Cas said then, in his deadpan tone that threw Stan for a loop every time. It was incredible how easily he could state things that made Stan’s palms sweat just thinking about.

“Would you like…? I mean, _I_ would like to continue, if…”

Cas tilted his head. “Me too,” he said after a moment, as if he had spent it debating whether Stan was worth his time. Finding out that he apparently was made Stan feel very smug.

“Would you like to exchange phone numbers?”

This was a little more forward than Stan usually was but he felt as if this was a once in a lifetime meeting and if he didn’t take this chance now, Cas would slip through his fingers. He couldn’t say why, but he knew that finding Cas again would be impossible and he also knew that he didn’t want to let him go just yet.

Cas, for his part, just regarded Stan again and then put his hand in his pocket, producing a coin which he offered up for Stan to take. He did so with great confusion, looking down at the coin with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t an American coin, nor any other country that Stan was aware of. It did have markings in it but he could barely make them out and he couldn’t say if that was because they were in a foreign language or if it was because the coin was so old and worn. 

“Thank you?” he said, slowly. “It’s pretty.”

That, at least, was true. It was warm as if Cas had had it in his hand for a long time, and looked to be made out of silver, or at least coated in it. 

Cas was smiling widely when Stan looked up at him. “Yes, I would like to exchange phone numbers.”

That made Stan so happy that he forgot about being confused. “Really?” he held up the coin for Cas to take back but the man shook his head, instead pulling out his phone.

“You keep it. It’s pure silver so it might come in handy.”

If… if Stan was ever strapped for cash? He honestly didn’t know when a silver coin that wasn’t even American would ever come in handy because though he didn’t know much he did know that the silver exchange rate was much lower than gold so he severely doubted he would get much for the coin if he tried to pawn it. 

Somehow he didn’t want to do that, though. This was a gift, he understood that, and he decided to keep it as a keepsake.

“Thank you,” he repeated and pocketed the coin so that he could pull out his phone too, ready to save Cas’ profile. 

They did the exchange quickly and Cas bid farewell almost directly after. It seemed a bit abrupt but Stan decided to not let that hamper his spirits. Instead he watched Cas’ retreating back (cursing the coat for hiding the man’s ass) and went home with a special bounce in his step and his thoughts the furthest they had been from James since their breakup. 

He couldn’t _wait_ to tell Val about this, talk about grabbing a win for himself!


	2. Pies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't be more excited how much support Stan is getting from you guys! Of course Destiel is endgame because I'm a Destiel slut (despite season 15 making me cRY At WoRK) but I'm really adoring Stan and I adore y'all even more for cheering him on ❤❤❤ Let's get Cas some niceness!

Castiel returned well after midnight, a little wet from the rain that had started as he was half-way to the bunker, but happy nonetheless.

Truth be told, Castiel had had a truly interesting evening with Stan, a regular human who seemed to need a friend just as much as Castiel at the moment. He was an attentive listener and an avid conversationalist, by Castiel’s standards. His smiles were easy and he was nice to look at, from a purely aesthetic point of view. And when Castiel had let his grace touch the man’s soul, just to see if he was in fact a threat in disguise, he had felt warmth and acceptance in a way he seldom did with strangers.

All in all, Castiel’s mood had drastically improved just from talking to Stan and that the man then had wanted to continue their conversation so much that he was willing to give Castiel his phone number only made it better. Castiel felt a sense of accomplishment and it carried him through the downpour all the way to the bunker’s looming walls.

He smiled to himself as he descended the creaky stairs but didn’t get very far until Dean accosted him.

The man was standing in the war room, arms crossed and a frown marring his fine features, as if he had been waiting for an unruly child to come home. Maybe, Castiel thought sourly, in Dean’s mind that wasn’t so far from the truth.

“Where have you been?”

Castiel instantly felt his good mood shift and he sighed harshly. “Out, like I said.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead just brushing past Dean and continuing deeper into the bunker. He had intended to go to what he liked to refer to as his room but somehow ended up in the kitchen instead. Unsurprisingly, Sam was also still up. The brothers might laugh at Castiel for never sleeping but they were a couple of night owls themselves.

“Hey,” Sam looked up with a smile, putting his tablet to the side. “You’re back, did you do something fun?”

For a moment Castiel just stood there, one step inside the door, contemplating how easy his life would have been if his unrequited love had been Sam instead. Sure, it would still have been _unrequited_ but at least Sam would be nicer about it, Castiel thought.

“I did, actually,” he went to sit opposite of Sam, grace alerting him to Dean’s approach just as he sat down. “I met someone.”

There was a beat of silence and Castiel realized too late that that phrase was usually used for someone meeting a potential lover. That was not what he had meant, though Stan was handsome indeed he seemed to carry a heavy weight on his heart and Heaven knew Castiel wasn’t exactly a catch anyway.

“Really? A friend?” Sam’s expression was open and earnest and Castiel smiled in relief. Of course Sam wouldn’t make his words into something they weren’t, not like Dean tended to do.

And speak of the devil, Dean stalked into the kitchen right then, having probably heard at least Sam’s last words.

“Yes,” Castiel smiled a little when he thought about Stan, unable not to when images of the man’s soft eyes and genuine smiles came to mind. “I think so.”

“You made a friend?” Dean’s tone was sharp and Castiel wanted to roll his eyes.

“Why do you have to make that sound so implausible?” Sam snapped and Castiel looked down at the table. “Just be happy at least one of us is still able to make normal friends.”

“Normal is not for hunters, you know that Sammy,” Dean snorted, arms crossed again. He did that a lot lately, Castiel reflected absentmindedly, as if to protect himself from something.

“In any case, he was very nice,” he interjected when Sam looked like he wanted to argue back. “We even exchanged phone numbers because he wanted to talk again.”

“Are you for real?” Dean exclaimed. “You can’t just go handing out your number to strangers, what if he’s a monster posing as a human? Or if he’s working for a monster.”

Images of Stan’s soul flared before Castiel’s eyes and he stood up, thoroughly fed up with Dean’s attitude.

“For your information I checked him with both my grace and conventional hunter methods, he’s _not_ a monster.”

“Working for one then—”

Castiel’s anger rose and he stepped up to Dean, getting in the man’s face. “Do you really think I’m so out of touch that I can’t even use my grace properly? Don’t forget, _Dean_, I can sense intent.”

Dean stared, wide-eyed, at him for a moment while Castiel held his gaze, refusing to be the one to back down. Dean was eventually the one to look away and Castiel huffed him right in the face before walking away, determined to spend the night alone in his room.

“Guys…” Sam said, tiredly but Castiel didn’t know if Dean answered him because he was already too far away.

Well in his room he took a moment to just breathe. Why was everything with Dean so difficult? Sometimes he didn’t even know if he wanted to smack the man on the head or kiss him stupid. And _sometimes_, Castiel thought Dean needed to be taught a lesson. He usually reveled in those thoughts, thoughts of perhaps spanking Dean, manhandling him, bending him over…

Tonight he instead laid down on his mostly unused bed, legs crossed at the ankles and fingers laced over his chest, and thought of Stan and his genuine smile.

* * *

Dean climbed out of the hole he was digging. “Fucking switch,” he panted, tossing his shovel at Sam who just rolled his eyes and jumped down. 

Not two days after Dean and Cas’ little argument a case had popped up in Coulee City, Washington, and though it had seemed like a pretty straight-forward ghost hunt that Sam wanted to send some of the newbies on, Dean had insisted they take it. They needed to get fucking out of the bunker and that was that. Staying cooped up like that was what had put friction between them, Dean just knew it. 

Sure, Cas had been civil with Dean after he’d come back late at night proclaiming to have made a “friend” but the atmosphere in the bunker was still chilly and Dean knew he was at least partially responsible for that. Either Cas _still_ wasn’t over whatever it was that Dean had said that had ruffled the angel’s feathers or he was irritated that Dean hadn’t accepted that Cas could make friends on his own. And look, it wasn’t even _like_ that. Dean definitely thought Cas could make friends, hell most of their actual friends liked Cas better than Dean, but this all seemed a bit too convenient for Dean to trust it. And apparently Cas didn’t like Dean questioning this new guy (who apparently was named _Stan_. Come _on_) because he got very snappy and defensive when Dean said anything at all, which wasn’t fair, Dean thought.

So yeah, he’d thought that a good old run-o-the-mill ghost ganking would improve the tension between them but as it turned out, all Cas did was text with _Stan_ and smile goofily at his phone. Like right now, for instance. They’d figured out where the unmarked grave with the offending ghost’s body was and were in the middle of digging him up to toast him but did Cas do his job and keep a lookout? _No_, he was fiddling with his phone, _again_.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean grunted when Cas fucking grinned. Was a while since Dean made the angel grin like that, just saying… “Look alive.”

“I don’t have to look to use my grace to sense my surroundings, Dean,” Cas answered calmly and Dean huffed. 

His breath created a cloud in front of him in the chilly October air and he hugged himself. Washington sure was colder than Kansas at this time of year. Probably didn’t help that they were out in the middle of nowhere either, surrounded by tall ferns and looming shadows. 

“It’s like midnight at home, how is he even still awake?”

“_You’re_ usually awake well past midnight.”

Dean wanted Cas to look at him while talking to him. Wanted to flip the phone out of his hands. “I thought he was respectable and shit,” he grumped, looking away. “What are you even talking about?”

The sound of Sam panting and digging was _loud_ while Dean waited for Cas’ response and if Cas had been anyone else Dean would have thought that pause was because he was trying to make up some bullshit lie. Cas wasn’t like that, though, and Dean knew the angel was telling the truth, which somehow seemed worse.

“I’m asking directions.”

“For what?”

“Some place called Bev’s,” he looked up, angling his phone so that Dean could see. Ugh, Cas used too many emojis… “Stan wants to have coffee there.”

Dean opened his mouth to object, feeling icy tendrils of dread curl in his stomach for some reason. Coffee didn’t really mean _coffee_, did it? But he didn’t have time to say anything before a new text popped up; Stan asking if Cas maybe wanted to meet at his place instead and they could go to the coffee shop together.

“Oh come on!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

Sam’s head popped over the edge of the grave. “What? Ghost?”

“No,” Dean snapped, gesturing to Cas who was busy typing back, lips quirked in that special little Cas-smile that was _Dean’s_. “Stan just asked Cas over for coffee.”

Sam blinked once and then a sly grin spread across his face. Yeah, Sam knew what “coffee” meant, alright.

“Good for you, Cas,” he stated, throwing Dean for a complete loop.

“Thank you,” Cas said sincerely, looking up with a smile. “Stan seems very excited, he said they have a new pastry that’s… oh,” he looked down at his phone again. Dean wanted to look at it too but kept his eyes averted. “I don’t eat.”

“You sure as fuck gobbled my pizza,” Dean snorted and recived twin glares from the angel and Sam. “What?”

“Dean has a point, even though he’s being an ass,” Sam said, resting his arms on the edge of the hole. Dean wanted to argue but was of course completely bulldozed by his little brother. “You can still taste the cake, like you do with our food.”

“That’s true,” Cas agreed happily and started typing again. “I assume we’re done here soon?”

“Actually—”

“Yes,” Sam interrupted Dean with a new glare. “We should be back in three days tops.”

“Great,” Cas mumbled, smiling, and walked over to sit on a nearby log as if he got tired from standing. 

Dean looked at him with his mouth open in shock for a moment before he stomped over to squat beside the hole where Sam was, digging again.

“The fuck?” he hissed, well aware that Cas probably could hear him if he bothered to listen. 

“What?” Sam asked without looking up and Dean wanted to tug his stupid floppy hair.

“You _know_ that dude doesn’t only wanna have coffee with Cas. Cas is just too dense to realize he’s being targeted.”

Sam looked up, his unimpressed bitchface the most unimpressed Dean had seen it in a long time. Worse even than when he accidentally ate Sam’s tofu ice cream and thought it was spoilt and threw it in the trash. 

“Or, _maybe_,” Sam bit out. “He’s being asked out on a date and you’re just acting prissy because it bothers you. Remind me again why that is, Dean? Because love between men is disgusting or because…?” he drawled that last part with a very insinuating tone, eyes boring into Dean and for a moment all Dean could do was sit there, staring back at him. 

“Whatever,” he eventually huffed out, getting to his feet and putting his hands in his pockets, hunching over.

Sam gave him another sour look and then turned to Cas.

“Hey, Cas,” he smiled widely when the angel looked up at them. “You should bring some flowers for Stan.”

“Really?” Cas asked, not dubiously, just genuinely asking and Dean wanted to kick dust in Sam’s face. 

“Yeah, that’s a nice thing to do when someone you like asks you for coffee.”

Cas positively beamed, Dean almost had to cover his fucking eyes. “Then I’ll do that.”

“That was unnecessary,” Dean muttered down at his little brother. Sam just shrugged and started digging. 

“Maybe instead of annoying me you should decide whether you think gays are disgusting enough to lose your best friend over.”

“I don’t think it’s disgusting,” Dean mumbled, feeling incredibly small all of a sudden.

“Then maybe you should figure out what _that_ means for you and Cas.”

Fucking hell, sometimes Dean really hated Sam. 

* * *

“What have I done, Val? Why did I ask if he would meet me _at home_?”

Val was standing by the kitchen island in Stan’s kitchen, flipping through a magazine. She was a petite woman the same age as him, with a smile that could turn both sweet and lascivious (and most men’s heads). She barely reached his shoulders in height, her waist was impossibly slim, her boobs were soft little things (that she cursed because she wanted at least C-cups. Stan thought she looked perfect the way she was), and her thighs were barely thicker than his upper arms. Truth be told, the only thing that was big on her was her hair, which was a dark brown massive mane that Stan always ended up braiding when they got drunk together. 

“Because you missed him obviously, duh.”

And her attitude, that was _definitely _big enough to make up for Stan’s softer nature, which was probably why they complimented each other so well. 

“_Missed_ him,” Stan spluttered, making her long-lashed eyes narrow. “I mean, I-I guess…”

“Didn’t you say he was away for work for a few days? What does he even do?”

“I dunno,” Stan mumbled, looking down at his phone. “Something with pest control, he said he didn’t like talking about it and I guess he thinks it’s pretty boring?”

“It does sound unsexy as hell,” she laughed and flipped the magazine shut. “But anyway, the point is that you missed him and you wanted to see him.”

Well, _that_ was true. “Yeah but I don’t want to sound clingy, it _was_ just a few days…”

Val frowned, as always picking up on when Stan was going into a downward spiral. “You listen to me, Stannie,” she came to stand in front of him, hands on her narrow hips. “Don’t start blaming yourself for wanting to have fun with this man.”

Val was his rock and her words made him feel better but he still felt so goddamn stupid. Cas must think he was slow in the head…

“Yeah, but—”

Val pinched his cheeks together, making his mouth pucker. Her grip was surprisingly strong, considering how tiny she was. 

“You stop that right now,” she stared him down until he nodded, her frown instantly turning into a smile and she stretched up to kiss him quickly. “You like him, right? Then why not just be happy that he accepted?”

“Because I sound like a moron!” Stan rushed out, fast enough for her not to interrupt him. He held up his phone, the text conversation with Cas open. “Read it, I’m clearly mentally challenged.”

Stan knew the exact moment she got to the part where he messed up because her eyebrows shot up her forehead and then she started grinning like a maniac. He groaned and buried his face in his hands, slumping down on one of the bar stools he had by the kitchen island. 

“He asked for directions to Bev’s and you countered by asking him here,” she was looking at him when he peeked at her through his fingers. “And his next text is like ‘sounds good, how do I get to your house?’, I fucking _can’t_, Stan,” she burst out laughing and Stan snatched his phone from her loose grip. 

“I had a brain fart, _okay_?”

“Seriously, Stan, honey,” she smiled widely, shaking her head. “You two are adorable.”

That made him smile too, and he looked fondly at his phone. “Yeah? Did you read the part where he talked about bees?”

“He sounds super wholesome,” she stepped up to him again, easily slotting between his legs as she hugged him tightly. “I think this will be good for you.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?” he mumbled, face buried in her hair as he hugged her back. 

“To be honest?” she pulled out, looking serious. “In some ways yes, it’s pretty soon, but also, what’s wrong with that? You told me he has unrequited love for his friend, so what’s wrong with him spending time with you to forget about that love and you spending time with him to let off some steam? I like it.”

“Let off some steam?” Stan stuttered. “We’re not _dating_.”

“Okay then,” she shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Then you can at least spend time with a guy who seems nice, to remind yourself that there _are_ nice guys. But I mean, seriously, don’t you wanna date him? I thought you said he was handsome?”

Stan almost blushed when he remembered jerking off last night and how that session might have included a hazy memory of Cas. 

“I, um, I mean _yes_ but… he’s got that whole thing with his friend and…”

“So don’t date him,” her grin was positively impish. “Just fuck him a little.”

“Valerie A. Williams!” he exclaimed and almost wanted to run and hide. God, she was always so in his head it was scary…

“Anyway, I think—”

She was interrupted by the doorbell and Stan looked at her with big eyes, feeling a spike of adrenaline at the thought of having Cas in his house. 

“Is that him?” Val asked when Stan shot off the stool. “When is he supposed to be here?”

“Three,” he mumbled, throwing an eye at the wall clock in his kitchen. It read ten to three and Stan couldn’t _believe_ he’d forgotten about time. “My God, it’s him, how do I look?”

“DTF as fuck,” Val grinned cheekily and sashayed out of the kitchen, to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair but let me get a glimpse first, okay?”

Well, it wasn’t like Stan was going to deny her the feast that was Cas’ appearance and to be honest he felt a little better about her being here for this so he just nodded and crept behind her, wringing his hands. 

She almost ripped open the door but Cas (of course it was Cas on the other side, Stan didn’t know why he’d had a split moment of doubt there) didn’t look surprised at all. He looked like he had been waiting patiently, though his eyes flew over Val’s face, clearly not having expected anyone other than Stan to answer the door.

“Hi there,” Val said and slid out on the porch. “I’m Valerie but you can call me Val, I’m Stan’s bff.”

Cas did that head tilting and Stan’s stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. 

“I don’t know what that means.”

Val turned her head to Stan and mouthed “oh my god”, which, yeah, Cas’ voice did have that impact.

“It means best friend forever,” she said with a sunny smile. “You must be Castiel?”

“Oh, yes,” Cas said, tone very pleased and yeah, Stan was walking over right now because this was too soft to keep watching. “I’m Castiel, I’m here for Stan.”

“I bet you are,” Val mumbled, looking him up and down. “Are those flowers?”

“Yes,” Cas held up a big bouquet of wildflowers and Stan almost skidded to a stop. “My friend said it’s appropriate to bring flowers when someone asks you over for coffee.”

“I’m liking this friend of yours,” Val said with a genuine smile. “Did you pick them yourself?”

“Yes, along the way as I walked here. Are they…?” he frowned at the bouquet. “Are they not satisfactory?”

Stan thought he might _die_. “They’re perfect!” he exclaimed, practically bull rushing Val to get out on the porch too. “I love them.”

Cas looked at him as if he was the most important person in the whole world and Stan felt jittery with how _seen_ Cas made him feel. Damnit, this was only the second time they met in person and he’d almost forgotten how unfairly handsome Cas actually was. 

“Hello, Stan.”

“Hi,” Stan breathed, body twitching.

“I picked these for you.”

Their fingers met when Cas handed over the bouquet and yup, it was official, Stan wanted to kiss him. Wanted to date him, wanted to get pressed down and—wanted to cook Cas dinner and hear about his day. Maybe Cas would eventually turn out to just be a rebound after James but boy would it be fun for a while.

“Okay _sooo_,” Val drawled, obviously mightily pleased with this development. “I’m gonna get out of your way, I was just here for moral support anyway. It’s _very_ nice to meet you Castiel, I hope it’ll happen again.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Val,” Cas said and damnit, Stan already missed the man’s eyes on him. He busied himself with smelling the flowers. “And you can call me Cas.”

She winked and skipped off the porch and over to her little Hyundai. It drew Stan’s attention to the fact that there were no other cars in front of his house aside from hers, and his own.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yes.”

Of course, he’d said he’d picked them while walking here and that was only logical after all. It would have been cumbersome to stop the car just to get out to get a few flowers, right? So that made sense but it was still a bit weird to be walking everywhere, wasn’t it? Cas had said he lived on the outskirts of Lebanon, did he walk everywhere?

“Something is bothering you.”

Stan snapped to attention at Cas’ concerned tone. “No I just… I’m worried,” he realized that was true the moment he said it. “Fall is coming and you’re walking a lot and I know the weather here is pretty forgiving at times but you could get sick.”

That, of all things, seemed to amuse Cas immensely. “You’re worried. About me, getting sick,” his smile was wide and made Stan feel all gooey. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Stan mumbled, unsure if that was something that needed thanking. “Anyway, come in while I put these in a vase,” he smiled when Cas just nodded. His back prickled with the knowledge that Cas was right behind him as he walked through his house. For the second time he noted how big Cas’ presence felt and yet when he turned his head there was only a man there, smaller than Stan, even. “How was work?”

“The usual,” Cas stated, bored, and Stan decided to heed the man’s wishes and not dig too deep into his occupation. “I like your house.”

“Thank you,” Stan smiled warmly, picking a vase from the top shelf in one of his kitchen cabinets. 

Did he wish he wasn’t quite tall enough so that Cas would have to help him? Perhaps by standing right behind Stan and pressing him against the counter as he reached for the vase? Yes. Sadly, that wasn’t the case, though. Stan was more than tall enough and when he turned back, Cas was busy studying the painting Val had gotten him last Christmas.

It was a life-like drawing of a bowl of fruit, made by one of Stan’s favorite artists and he loved it.

“Val gave me that,” he said with a smile as he joined Cas after having put the bouquet in some water, the vase looking wonderful on the kitchen island. 

Cas tilted his head to the side, contemplating. “What did she mean, moral support?”

“Oh, that, I…” Stan felt his cheeks heat and no, he wasn’t _blushing_ because people don’t actually do that outside of movies but it sure felt as if he did. “I might have been nervous about having you come over.”

“Really?” Cas turned his head and they were suddenly face to face and so very close. “Shouldn’t I have come? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

It sounded as if he purposely made his voice sound levelled, nonchalant, even. As if the answer could possibly hurt him very much but like he didn’t want that knowledge to influence Stan’s sincerity. But God, Stan felt so weak for this man right now. 

“No,” he murmured. “You make me feel a lot of things, but not uncomfortable.”

Cas quirked his lips in that barely there, secret little smile, and his eyes wandered down to Stan’s lips and up again. 

“Good.”

And that wasn’t the first time during their coffee date that Stan had to remind himself that they weren’t _there_ yet, weren’t _dating_-dating yet. But boy, it started to feel like he might want to. 

* * *

“Someone looks happy?”

Castiel looked over at Sam when the man entered the kitchen in the bunker. Castiel had been up all night, pretending he was translating some ancient Greek spells but in reality he had been thinking about Stan and the way the sun caught in the man’s hair. It was the kind of blonde that almost looked golden in the sunlight and Castiel liked it. 

“I am, thank you.”

“Yeah?” Sam smiled and grabbed one of the mugs Castiel had prepared for him and Dean, pouring himself some of the coffee Castiel had brewed as soon as he’d heard the bunker’s shower start up. “Things go well on your date yesterday?”

Castiel folded his hands in his lap, remaining by the kitchen table as Sam sat down across from him.

“I did, it was… peaceful.”

Sam looked like he understood completely what Castiel meant by that, and that it made him a little sad. Truth be told, Castiel was a little sad too, that it was so difficult to spend time with Dean but apparently so easy to spend time with a literal stranger. It made Castiel realize that for all his shortcomings, maybe he wasn’t the actual problem in the situation with Dean, and that for some reason made it worse.

“Well I’m glad you’re doing something for yourself,” Sam stated then, making Castiel feel warmth in his chest, his grace rushing through him.

“Thank you. And Sam,” he leaned in a bit, conscious of the fact that Dean was approaching but also wanting to ask this. “You gave me the advice to bring flowers for a coffee date and it was highly appreciated.”

“Really?” Sam looked genuinely happy. “He liked them?”

“He put them in a vase,” Castiel smiled at the memory of Stan’s surprise. “So I wanted to ask if you had any ideas for what to bring on a lunch date?”

Dean stopped just outside the kitchen door, Castiel’s grace informed him, but he didn’t look over because that would draw Sam’s attention. Now he didn’t know if he wanted to continue this conversation, though. Dean had been pretty sullen since they got back from the hunt and Sam had more than once implied that it was because Dean didn’t want Cas to have coffee with Stan. How would he feel about lunch, then? Castiel didn’t care to find out and felt foolish for bringing this topic up here, where it was so easy for Dean to hear. It was almost as if he wanted to get caught. 

“He asked you out again?” Sam sounded both surprised and happy, which seemed appropriate.

“He asked if I wanted to come see him at his work, for lunch.”

“That’s great, Cas,” Sam reached over the table and patted Cas’ arm fondly. “And I don’t think you have to bring anything, you don’t have to do that for every date. Just the big ones.”

Castiel nodded, making mental notes about this. And about asking Sam later what constituted as a “big” date. For now he thought this conversation ought to be over, especially considering he could hear Dean’s retreating steps and he felt bad about keeping the older Winchester out of his own kitchen.

“Thank you, Sam.”

“Anytime, buddy.”

Yes, Castiel thought, as he walked to the bunker’s library, conscious of Dean’s wandering (anywhere but near Castiel), Sam would prove to be a great help, as always.

*****

As expected, the following couple of days were dreary to say the least. Dean was acting overly happy for some reason and wouldn’t respond as to why when asked but Castiel suspected either that Dean was trying to be supportive or Sam had made him. It saddened Castiel that Dean had to make such an obvious effort just to be happy for him and he shunned away from Dean’s soul, which at times seemed to scream in distress. 

When Castiel asked if he could take one of the cars from the garage and Dean answered with a stiff smile, saying “sure! Take any one you want! Baby’s keys are on my nightstand”, Castiel knew something was terribly wrong. He didn’t pursue it, though, mostly because Sam was in the room too and he scowled hard at Dean. 

He ended up taking a pick-up truck and thought the choice was good enough. It would get him to where he needed to be and would make Stan less worried. Castiel still found it sweet that Stan was worried about Castiel’s health but that didn’t mean he would want to cause unnecessary fretting. Besides, he’d come to realize the moment Stan addressed the fact that Castiel walked a lot that it was, in fact, weird. Not walking in and of itself, he thought, but that he walked far longer stretches than any human would do outside of exercise. And so Heaven help him, but Castiel wanted to fit in. Wanted Stan to not feel weird about anything Castiel did and wanted the man to keep inviting Castiel to things. 

The thought struck him that this was the second time Stan had asked him to socialize, and counting the exchange of phone numbers, this was the third time Stan had initiated anything between them. Castiel supposed he ought to do something similar, to show that he was as interested in continuing seeing Stan as Stan was in seeing Castiel. He wished he was better at situations like this, though. Or wished he didn’t feel so guilty about going behind Dean’s back to ask Sam. 

He felt his grace twinge at the thought of Dean. Why was everything so difficult with the man? Castiel remembered a time when it was simple, when Dean was the Righteous Man and Castiel his Angel of the Lord. And for a while there, over the summer, it had felt as if that was true again, except there was no Apocalypse to ruin their good mood. But then this happened, their fight, Castiel’s inability to get over it this time, and Dean’s continued inability to correct any mistakes of this calibre. 

Castiel forced such thoughts away. They were too damaging for his state of mind and he was closing in on where the preschool that Stan worked at were supposed to be located. He was almost a little late, but only because Sam had said he couldn’t come too early and sit in the car and wait, because that would look odd for some reason Castiel couldn’t fathom. 

In any case he would be on time, with perhaps a minute to spare and since Stan had seemed to like that Castiel was early last time, he didn’t think this would be a problem. 

“Yes, Stan said he would have a friend over,” the elderly woman who was leading Castiel through the halls of the preschool tossed him a suspicious look. “Though he did say he would meet you out by the gates, as I’m sure you understand we can’t have strange men running around the school unattended.”

“Of course,” Castiel murmured, not completely understanding but feeling as if that would be meaningless to admit. 

To be honest, he didn’t see much of a problem at all for him to find Stan on his own, his grace had locked onto the man and since he was a mere human it was no problem for Castiel to track him if he needed to. But he supposed an unfamiliar face could frighten the children, even though they were in actuality much safer with him around, and seemed more curious than scared of him. In any case, Castiel didn’t see the point in bringing all this up, the woman was taking him to Stan and that was all he cared about. 

She stopped by a door that read _Faculty_ and nodded to it, before departing without another word. Castiel opened his mouth to thank her but got the feeling she was displeased with him. He wondered if he had gotten Stan into trouble and felt a rush of regret. He should have called before he tried to enter the school premises, he understood that now. 

Caught in thought, he pushed open the door without knocking and was greeted with the sight of a shirtless Stan. It made Castiel stop short just inside the door, eyes roaming more greedily than he cared to admit. But Stan’s physique was stunning, something Castiel of course had noted on their very first evening together, but to see him without clothes was truly something. Smooth, tanned skin stretched taut over bulging muscles and Castiel felt something stir within him that he hadn’t felt other than when looking at Dean. The thought made him feel shame, for a moment, as if he was betraying Dean by feeling aroused at the sight of another man. 

He took a step closer, urging himself into action to will away potentially inappropriate feelings. His grace simmered just there, beneath the surface, and Castiel swallowed hard when his eyes landed on what seemed like a beautiful piece of art on Stan’s back.

Unfortunately, the sound of the door and Castiel’s step, alerted the other man and he whipped around (almost as if to hide the tattoo that spread across his whole back). His eyes, already wide in surprise, widened even more when he saw that it was Castiel there and for some reason that made him raise the shirt he was holding, to cover his chest. Castiel wanted to remark on how the man’s nipples were too delectable to ever be covered but he refrained when Stan opened his mouth to speak, seemingly a little startled.

“Cas, I,” he cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like this. It’s just… one of the kids spilled apple juice all over me and I wanted to get a new shirt before you came…”

Castiel tilted his head to side, somehow fascinated with how Stan sometimes appeared to be blushing without actually physically blushing. Instead of addressing the man’s half-naked state, Castiel walked up to him (too close, Dean would have said) and raised his hand almost as if to touch Stan’s side.

“This tattoo,” he murmured, well aware that his voice was too intimate for where they were. “It’s astonishing.”

Stan looked back sharply. “Yeah?”

Castiel moved his hand, fingers dancing in the air, just out of reach, and Stan turned half-way so that Castiel could look his fill of the tattoo. The beautiful garden, the wasteland left inside the half-open gate, it all appealed to him on a basic level. 

“It represents… escape?” he looked up when Stan drew a soft breath. 

“Yes,” Stan’s eyes roamed Castiel’s face and Castiel felt his grace surge through him. “I lived a lie, hiding my sexuality from my family, but then I burst through the gate.”

Castiel nodded, feeling his grace sing when his fingers made first contact with Stan’s soft skin. 

“I can relate.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel looked up at Stan’s breathless tone. He held the man’s gaze, pressing his fingers harder against the tattoo, tracing it. Stan’s heart rate was increasing, Castiel could feel it in the way the man’s blood rushed just under the surface. 

“I too felt trapped, my family is very controlling,” he looked down again, eyes catching on the vivid flowers outside the gate. “But now I am free.”

“Cas…”

When Castiel looked up again Stan seemed impossibly close, the air around them hot, and Castiel felt himself sway on his feet, pulled by something. Stan’s eyelids fluttered and his gaze focused briefly on Castiel’s lips in a similar way to how Dean sometimes looked at him and oh—Castiel wanted to kiss Stan. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before this moment, but he really did, and by the looks of it, Stan wanted him to do it too. Stan turned more to Castiel, facing him, and Castiel’s fingers slid on the man’s skin, skimming his side, and Stan’s pupils blew out a little. 

Castiel was alerted to the presence of two children the moment before he leaned in to the point of no return and he was sorely tempted to ignore them but in the end his conscious won over. This was after all Stan’s workplace and Castiel understood that being homosexual was a tender subject to some humans. And also that kissing in front of children wasn’t always appreciated. At least not the kind of kissing Castiel was interested in doing right now. 

So instead of leaning in and capturing Stan’s alluring lips, Castiel took a step back and turned his head to the door he had entered through.

“Hello there,” he said softly and heard twin squeaks in response before a little boy and girl burst in, no older than four, their eyes bright with excitement.

Stan made a surprised sound and struggled with getting his shirt on so quickly that Castiel understood the man didn’t want the children to see his tattoo. 

“Were you gonna kiss?” the girl asked, her tone animated.

“Karen!” Stan exclaimed but then made a distraught little sound.

“You were,” Karen stated as smugly as a four-year-old could. Castiel turned to Stan just as the boy pretended to vomit. 

Stan had gotten his head stuck in the shirt and seemed helpless. Castiel’s face softened and he reached out for the man with both his hands and his grace, to help him get unstuck and to relieve his stress. Stan instantly melted into Castiel’s touch and when his head popped out the right shirt hole he gave Castiel a look that made him want to kiss the man all over again. He brushed his hands down Stan’s back as he righted the shirt for him and Stan was the one swaying on his feet now, seemingly helplessly caught once again but by something else entirely.

“You’re doing it again!” Karen exclaimed, triumphant, and Stan and Castiel almost jumped apart. “Who are you even? Unca’ Stan’s prince?”

She pronounced it as “pwinse” and Castiel couldn’t help but smile and kneel down in front of her to get to her eye level. Stan just groaned and buried his face in his hands, the boy looking on with poorly disguised curiosity.

“I’m not a prince,” Castiel said solemnly, as if sharing a great secret. The girl leaned in. “I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

She gasped but the boy snorted in disbelief. “As if,” he rolled his eyes when Karen elbowed him. “Angels have _wings_, everyone knows that.”

“They do,” Castiel agreed.

“Then were are yours?” Karen asked, eyes wide as she looked at Castiel’s clearly empty back.

Castiel felt his torn wings twitch, his grace as always helping him alleviate the pain. “They burned up,” he said, the sadness in his voice all too real. “When I chose to fall down to Earth.”

“That musta hurt!” the boy said, suddenly completely sold on the idea.

“It did,” Castiel nodded and got to his feet again. “It hurt more than anything I have ever experienced but it was worth it,” he turned to look at Stan with a soft smile, the man looking incredibly taken. “Because I got to meet such wonderful people, like Stan.”

“That decides that,” Karen stated promptly and Castiel looked down in surprise when her little hand grabbed his. “You _are_ Unca’ Stan’s prince.”

“Karen,” Stan mumbled, this time not sounding half as scandalized as when she’d almost caught them kissing. His tone betrayed a longing and Castiel’s grace reached out to curl around the man’s soul, reveling in the closeness and warmth. 

“Or you’re at least his boyfriend,” she continued, unperturbed. “Like Jake is mine.”

“I’m _not _your boyfriend!” the boy (Jake, apparently) snapped and ran out of the room. 

Karen just sighed and shook her head in a very adult-like fashion. “He is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Castiel looked up at Stan, finding the man looking straight at him with fond eyes, and found himself returning a smile, his grace radiating affection.

* * *

To be honest, Sam was getting a little concerned. This whole thing between Dean and Cas (this massive, hulking _thing_) that had been growing over the years and had seemed like a good thing in Sam’s mind, had come to a screeching halt and Sam was seriously starting to worry about his big brother. 

He gave Dean a lot of shit for what had happened that movie night a while back, that was true. And he took every opportunity he could to encourage Cas, who seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with literally _anyone_ else. Because, see, Sam knew why Dean had reacted like he had but that didn’t mean he liked it. And he felt deep down in his heart that the beaten and battered little angel who once rose up against Heaven for them deserved better than shitty beer and late night movie reruns with a man who was too emotionally constipated to treat him properly. 

All that was true, but also, even deeper down in Sam’s very guarded heart he felt like Dean and Cas just kind of… belonged together. They fit. Like he and Jess had fit, which was probably why it had been so hard for him to replace her. Thinking of it like that, he could only imagine how Cas felt and that made Sam angry again. But it never lasted long, because he knew what Dean had been through, knew his brother like the back of his hand and he saw the pain. The most hurtful thing was that Sam also knew that Cas understood Dean better than anyone and even so, he had chosen to walk away this time and though he had come back that evening he wasn’t all here anymore. He was drifting and it scared Dean, and that, in turn, worried Sam. For how much he poked fun at Dean, dropping sour hints, and being a general pain, he wanted his brother happy.

Which was the main reason he was driving down to Lebanon to get Dean some pie. 

Cas was out on a lunch with Stan and Dean wasn’t taking the whole thing as well as he pretended to. They way Cas went on about Stan, Sam knew it was only a matter of time before the topic of actual dating came up as something more than a joke and he also knew Dean was aware of that. And yet all he did was snap at the angel and tinker with the Impala. Sam felt bad for them both, because every time Dean shut off emotionally, Cas got a little sadder. Only now he turned to his phone and his new best friend and it was heart wrenching to watch Dean when that happened. 

Since the Impala was holed up in the garage with her master, getting the umpteenth waxing of this week, Sam had opted to take one of the motorcycles. It was a little old but Dean had gotten it running, like he had with most things in the garage. Even before this whole mess, Dean had liked to tinker with the cars and bikes in the bunker’s garage and Sam was grateful for it. 

He rode without a helmet not because he was trying to be a douche but because he couldn’t find any and judging by the violent sounds coming from the other end of the garage he would do better than ask Dean. Really, though, Sam understood that feelings were hard, maybe even more so for Dean and Cas considering Dean was deeply repressed and Cas was a goddamn angel but damn…

The weather was nice, the wind only a little chilly as he blasted past the trees and houses but Sam liked it, it felt refreshing. They’d been holed up in the bunker too much lately, Dean was right about that. Truth be told, Sam was enjoying putting together a little hunter hub but he also enjoyed the open road almost as much as Dean. Not that he was going to admit that to his obstinate brother…

Well in Lebanon he headed to the local Minimart immediately. He had considered hitting up the hardware store too but thought better of it when he realized he only had the saddlebags on the bike to carry stuff home. Better not waste room when it could be filled with pie. All in all, Dean was kind of a jerk but Sam liked it better when Dean smiled, at least.

He went through the minimart quickly, picking up groceries and some magazines (no Busty Asian Beauties for Dean, Sam wasn’t feeling _that_ sorry for him). From experience, he knew they kept the pies and other pastries by the counter so he went there last, only to discover that the case was empty.

“Um,” Sam forced on a smile when the store clerk turned to him. “Do you have any pie?”

The clerk, a young man with dark hair and an easy smile looked apologetic. “Sorry, man. Just sold the last piece to that lady over there,” he nodded to a woman who was standing to the side of the counter, fixing with her bag. She looked up when mentioned and Sam felt a stab go through him at how beautiful her eyes were. “We have cake, though?”

Chocolate cake, by the looks of it and it kind of sounded delicious but Sam knew (also from experience) that it was better to come home with no pie, rather than a poor substitute. 

“No,” Sam sighed and put his shopping basket on the counter. “I guess I’ll have none.”

In the corner of his eye he saw the woman hesitating before leaving, and then coming over to him instead. She was short, not even reaching his shoulders, and very slim, something that for some reason made Sam very conscious of how _not_ small he was, especially in comparison. If he tried, he thought he might reach around her waist with his hands alone. What a weird thought, though…

“I’m sorry, did you want the pie?”

There was a moment’s pause before Sam gathered his senses, suddenly acutely aware that he had looked at her lips as she talked. They were very full and painted an alluring red. Come to think of it, the whole woman felt very alluring and Sam suddenly felt very conscious of his occupation. Sure, beautiful women could turn any man into a Neanderthal and it didn’t have to involve something supernatural but he should be careful nonetheless.

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” he smiled a little and instantly noticed her eyes wandering his face as well. “It was for my brother anyway.”

“How sweet,” she smiled, shifting her full grocery bag from her left hand to her right. Sam almost asked if she wanted him to carry it for her. In the background he heard beeping as the store clerk rounded up his groceries and that sound was grounding enough for Sam not to make a fool of himself. Yet. 

“It’s nothing, he’s been feeling down lately and he’s a pie fanatic so I thought I would cheer him up,” he shrugged, faking nonchalance but it was hard when her big eyes were so intently focused on him. “But it’s fine.”

“Tell you what,” she said, smiling again, tone perky. “If you buy me two slices of the cake I’ll trade you.”

Sam felt a little stumped. “Really?”

“Sure,” she shrugged too and it looked far more casual than Sam felt right now. “I only picked pie on a whim anyway and my friend doesn’t care, he eats any sweet he can get.”

“That’s,” Sam smiled widely, feeling surprisingly exhilarated. “That would be awesome.”

“Hey,” she gently bumped her grocery bag against his shin. “Anything to help a cute guy out, right?”

Sam was so surprised that he couldn’t come up with a decent comeback. Just stood there, grinning like a goof and cleared his throat and _oh my God_ he was lucky Dean wasn’t there. He nearly jumped ten feet in the air when the store clerk harrumphed and the little shit was smirking when Sam turned to him.

“So, two slices of cake?”

“Um, I, yes. Please.”

Once Sam’s groceries had been put in a bag and paid for, he and the woman stepped to the side so they wouldn’t hold up the line. He wanted to say something clever but didn’t get a chance to before she held up the little box with the pie, nodding to the box he had in his hand. Mute like a doofus, he just accepted the pie and handed over the cake, thinking that _now_ was the time to be suave. To thank her with some interesting line. Sure, he wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t a supernatural being targeting him, and he was anyhow not on the lookout for a date, but she was a beautiful woman who had done him a great favor and he wanted to be nice about it.

But once again, she interrupted his train of thoughts. This time with a little sound of excitement.

“You have such big hands,” she looked up at him with her big eyes and Sam only then realized that they were standing very close. “I like that,” she murmured. Sam’s throat closed up and they ended up kind of just staring at each other for a moment, before she stepped back and gave him a flirty wink. “See you around, stranger.”

With that, she was out the door and Sam was left standing there like a complete fool because when in the hell would he ever seen her again? Such a missed opportunity not asking for her number right now… 

Also, this whole thing made him extremely aware of how Dean and Cas must feel like every time they started staring at each other, standing too close, touching without touching. And suddenly Sam couldn’t get home with the pie fast enough, even though he knew it would do little to ease Dean’s suffering. 


	3. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry all of you who are strict Destiel supporters, we will get there but it will be some time lol  
On the other hand, all of you in the mood for some Castan, you're welcome!

Both Sam and Cas were in the library when Dean entered it and the sight warmed his heart just as a bittersweet feeling came over him. He loved to hang out with his little brother and best friend but lately their moments together had a tainted feel to them and he knew he was part of the reason, he’d at least realized that much over the past few weeks. 

Also knew that Cas apparently had turned into an oversensitized bitch since he decided to live here and—no. Dean shook his head to himself and drew a deep breath. Cas wasn’t in the wrong, Dean had fucked up and he was just mad because he didn’t like paying for it. Didn’t like Sam’s disapproving glances and how Cas couldn’t stop texting with his new best friend, punishing Dean with every tap of his thumbs and stupid smiles down at his phone screen. Dean used to be on the receiving end of those lame texts and he _missed _it, okay? Still, there was no one to blame but himself and he was trying to make up for it, in his own way.

“Hey, guys,” he clapped his hands together to get their attention, feeling weirdly nervous. Sam looked up but of course Cas didn’t. The angel was busy frowning down at his phone and though they’d just returned from another long hunt (this time a ghoul in Wisconsin), Dean kind of hoped the frowning was about supernatural signs and not something Stan-related. “I was thinking about having burgers for dinner, what do you say?”

Sam groaned, like a fucking child, and tossed the book he was reading onto the table. “Haven’t we had enough of the golden arches for a while?”

“I wasn’t thinking about McDonald’s you pleb,” Dean snorted, eyes shifting to Cas but only quickly, only a glance to see if he had caught the angel’s attention yet. He hadn’t and it irked Dean more than he felt like admitting. “I thought I’d head into Lebanon, or maybe Smith Center, and get us some real ingredients. Make us some _actual_ burgers from scratch.”

That made Sam light up. “Hell yes, that sounds nice.”

“Yeah, we deserve it after the hunt we just had,” ghoul grease was a fucking _nightmare_ to clean. “We can make a buffet of the toppings, what do you say? Cas?”

He put perhaps a little too much emphasis on Cas’ name (didn’t want to be too obvious after all or Sam would notice) but at least it made the angel look up.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted.”

“I noticed,” Dean snorted and went to lean his hands on the table they were sitting at. “I thought burgers made you happy?”

Dean could see Sam studying him and fucking hell, that had been too much. He’d said too much and now Sam knew his hidden motive and you know what? Good. Sam needed to see that Dean wasn’t as pathetic as he thought he was and also that he _was_ making an effort to patch things up with Cas. Not that Dean hadn’t enjoyed the taste of that pie Sam had brought home a couple of days ago (Dean had eaten both slices) but he didn’t want pity-pies. 

Mainly because it soured the taste of his pies but also because Dean didn’t _need_ pity, period. 

“Actually, it was Jimmy Novak who loved burgers.”

Dean felt the vein in his temple twitch. “Well, fucking excuse me for—”

“What has you distracted?” Sam thankfully interrupted. 

Dean straightened and crossed his arms over his chest when Cas turned to look at Sam instead. Why the fuck was it so difficult to talk to Cas anyway? Dean tried to remember if it had always been like that and yeah, in a way maybe it had but it had seemed more inconsequential before. Now his own inability to express himself frustrated Dean and Cas’ lack of interest scared him a little.

“It’s this text,” Cas said and held up his phone for Sam to read. “From Stan,” he added with a side-ways glance at Dean and fucking _hell_, Dean really had to concentrate to not make a show of how much that bothered him. 

So a simple text from Stan was enough to distract Cas from Dean, who was standing in the same room, trying to have a conversation face-to-face? Fucking good to know. 

Sam read the text quickly and leaned back with a sly smile. Oh here we go…

“Sound pretty straight-forward to me.”

The way he definitely wasn’t looking at Dean told Dean he wouldn’t like whatever it was about. It annoyed him, perhaps more than it should, how insightful Sam seemed to be about this whole situation. Was Dean really that obvious? And if he was, why hadn’t perceptive Cas picked up on it? Or maybe he had and he was just ignoring it? And what the hell was it that Dean was obvious about in the first place? Dean had a clue but he didn’t like it so he ignored it. 

“Does it?” Cas asked, dismayed, and turned his phone to look at it again. “He asks if I want to go clubbing but he doesn’t specify what he wants to club. I can’t accept it if he wants to club animals, Sam,” Cas looked positively devastated at the mere prospect of his precious Stan ever doing something so horrible. 

“He doesn’t want to club animals, Cas,” Sam chuckled. Meanwhile, Dean felt like he was having a minor stroke.

“Monsters, then?” Cas asked, his tone lowered. “Was Dean right and I have been deceived all along? Is Stan a hunter like us?”

Dean really liked that Cas spoke of himself as a hunter but that was for fucking later because this was eating Dean up. Sam’s renewed laughter didn’t help either.

“He wants to take you out to a club, _Cas_,” Dean snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose but nope, there was no way to stop his impending headache. 

“Oh,” Cas suddenly seemed happy and… smug? “And that is a good thing?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, smile genuine, and this was where Dean’s stomach dropped. 

Because Cas looked _happy_ about getting asked out to a club by this Stan. To a _club_ of all places, asked out on a _date_, Dean assumed. Not coffee or lunch, nothing dainty like that. But to a club with alcohol and dancing. Dean’s angel, _Dean’s_ Cas, in a club with someone else.

“I guess if you like stuffy places that smell like piss and smoke,” he said, his tone of voice higher than intended. Cas gave him a confused look and Sam shook his head disapprovingly. 

“A club is a place where you relax and let loose,” he said, pulling Cas’ attention back to him and Dean hated it. Felt his whole body flush hot with the need to be the one to explain these things to Cas. But he didn’t want to, not like this. 

“So like a bar?”

Sam smiled and Dean chewed the inside of his cheek, staring straight at the side of Cas’ face, willing the angel to look at him. To see him like only Cas could. But Cas kept his focus on Sam and something broke within Dean, piece by piece.

“Kinda, I mean, we go to a bar to celebrate after a hunt, so I guess that was what you meant.”

“Yes,” Cas looked a little proud of himself, lines appearing when he smiled to himself, as if those memories were fond to him and fucking hell, Dean wanted them to be fond memories so badly.

“A club is a little different, though,” Sam continued, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “You dance and drink and have fun with your friends.”

“Or with your date,” Dean snapped, tone suddenly vicious for no apparent reason and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “Stan wants to take you to a club so he can make a move on you. Unless you’re already dating? Are you saying you’re in love?”

Cas turned to regard Dean for a long, silent moment, and it made Dean hold his breath. Suddenly he didn’t want Cas’ eyes on him anymore. The way the angel sized him up now made Dean feel small and insignificant and it _hurt_.

Then suddenly Cas turned back to address Sam again and Dean breathed out, slowly. “What do you wear to a club?”

Sam shrugged. “Casual clothes. I can help you.”

“That would be nice,” Cas said and stood up, pocketing his phone. “It’s this Friday so I would appreciate your help. And it’s yes, by the way,” he directed that last part to Dean.

“Huh?”

“Yes, I do believe we are dating and yes, I’m starting to think I could develop a romantic interest in Stan,” he took a step closer, coming well into Dean’s personal space. “Do you have a problem with that, Dean?”

Cas held his gaze, boldly, and Dean felt even smaller somehow. Icy dread curled around his intestines and it felt like Death himself was blowing down Dean’s neck. Cas was interested in Stan, for real? Not just as a friend or a quick fuck but as someone to spend your actual life with? Dean should have known, Cas was never the casual guy, but somehow this revelation felt like a slap in the face.

“No,” he mumbled, though he had a thousand and one problems with it. Of course, none of them were of the kind Cas was thinking about and Dean couldn’t voice them anyway. 

“Good.”

Cas left with that, sweeping out of the library with a billowing trench coat and Dean felt fucking shaky. Felt as if his bones had been severed in several places and like his skeleton was falling apart inside him. He reached for the table with a trembling hand, feeling cold-sweats break out all over him. It felt like dying and he thought he fucking deserved it.

“Dean,” came Sam’s gentle tone. Dean thought he would throw up.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Sam.”

“But if you just—”

“I can’t hear it, Sam!” Dean roared, eyes wild as he met Sam’s pitying ones. “I-I _can’t_, I’m—” _pathetic, worthless, inept, not good enough_.

They stared at each other for a moment and then Dean did what he did best in uncomfortable situations. He escaped to his beloved Impala. Drove her out of the garage and didn’t stop until he was a good two hours out of Lebanon. So much for fucking burger night. 

* * *

After their… “discussion” earlier in the week, Dean had barely spoken to him. Had, in fact, barely been home at all and when he’d returned after his hours long drive that same evening he had been drunk enough to have Castiel’s grace boiling with suppressed rage. Dean knew Castiel hated it when he drove drunk. 

This whole thing with Dean made Castiel feel mostly a little glum, though, which was a fairly new emotion to him. But for now, Castiel had decided not to focus on the older Winchester brother at all. Tonight was his date with Stan and so far, Castiel thought everything was going great. 

Sam had helped Castiel out with his clothes, like he’d promised, and he’d put Castiel in a pair of simple jeans (that were definitely too small to be his own and Castiel entertained the idea that he was wearing Dean’s clothes, finding it highly appealing) and told him to keep his regular white shirt and lose the rest. He made Castiel unbutton the shirt a little and roll up the sleeves and called it a “timeless” look. Castiel felt underdressed. 

Stan reacted very favorably to Castiel’s attire when he came to answer the door, however, and Castiel decided to take that as a good sign. And Stan himself was looking very good in a tight t-shirt and jeans so that made Castiel feel better about this whole evening. Val and her sister Fran joined them for the car ride to the city of Downs (apparently Fran’s ex-husband had their son for the weekend) and the club they had picked out but they left Castiel and Stan alone almost as soon as they were through the door. A shame, Castiel thought because the two ladies had been highly entertaining. 

But then Stan grabbed Castiel’s hand, said “I’m glad it’s just us” and completely made Castiel forget about anyone else for a while. His grace sang through him as Stan led him into the club. Deep bass music was playing and the throngs of people swayed with it on the dancefloor, a sweaty heap that seemed to coil like a living being. Castiel’s senses were bombarded and his grace rushed to alleviate them, softening the edges so that he was able to focus on what was important to him in this moment.

Stan moved swiftly past the crowd, headed for the bar at the far end, and Castiel let himself be led, encouraged by the loud thumping of Stan’s heartbeat, easily picked out for him by his grace. The man looked gorgeous and Castiel found himself wanting to push up Stan’s t-shirt and trace his tattoo with his fingers, to study it intensely, perhaps after a night of—

Stan turned his head when Castiel squeezed his hand but Castiel just gave him a small smile and they continued to the bar. How unexpected this arousal felt to Castiel. At first he had thought to find a good friend, a companion with whom he could speak casually, who had _other_ things on his mind than monsters and repressed emotions. But it had quickly developed into something more, he had been made aware of that the moment he saw Stan without his shirt, though it was still new and rather surprising to him.

For a long while Castiel hadn’t understood love and then he’d thought there were only two kinds. The love he felt for family like Sam and the love he felt for Dean and Dean alone. To find that someone other than Dean could provoke a love different than that for family still surprised and scared Castiel, to some extent. It was also exuberantly exhilarating.

Stan bought them both drinks and didn’t seem as flustered about buying “girly” drinks at this club as he had been at the bar in Lebanon. Then again, Castiel witnessed both men and women making out with the same sex in this club and thought that perhaps the rules were more lenient here. Humans were a funny lot indeed.

They drank, and conversed, as much as they could in the loud music. Val and Fran joined them, looking flushed and happy and very beautiful. They both flushed even harder when Castiel told them so, though he didn’t know why.

“I think I need to go to the little girl’s room,” Val announced after over an hour spent in a booth with them, talking and drinking. All three humans were definitely getting tipsy and Castiel enjoyed their giggling perhaps more than he should. “You?”

Fran nodded and jumped up on wobbly feet, she swayed and probably would have crashed against the table if Castiel hadn’t caught her elbow.

“You,” she mumbled drunkenly. “Are very steady.”

“Thank you?”

“Yeah Frannie, we’re going,” Val announced loudly and rolled her eyes. Castiel only smiled when Fran winked at him and let herself be led by her sister.

“I think, ah,” Stan looked fidgety. “I gotta go too, are you okay by yourself? Unless… you wanna come?”

He looked for some reason as if he wanted Castiel to say yes and Castiel’s mind went to much darker places than he had expected of himself. His grace surged up like a wave within him when he imagined pushing Stan up against a stall, one knee between the other man’s thighs, rubbing the hardness there, hands raking down the man’s painted back…

“No thank you, I’m fine. I’ll wait here.”

One good thing about having his grace back was that even though he occasionally ate and drank he still didn’t need to facilitate the restroom. And thus, in cases like this, didn’t need to feel tempted to act on impure thoughts. Castiel was getting rather certain that Stan enjoyed their time together as more than friends but still, crowding your perhaps-more-than-friend up against a wall and ravishing him might not be appreciated.

“Okay,” Stan mumbled, hand on Castiel’s arm. “If you’re sure.”

Yes, it was abundantly clear now that Stan wasn’t talking about a need to urinate. They were sitting close, close enough that most of them touched and when Castiel turned his head more they ended up almost bumping noses. Stan sucked in a breath and Castiel observed the man’s inviting lips for a moment and then nodded.

Stan nodded too but lingered a moment longer before sliding out of the booth as well. Castiel stayed where he was, happy to watch Stan walk away. The man really had an incredible build. Broad shoulders, a slim waist, perky butt, yes Castiel was angel enough to admit his eyes caught on the movement of Stan’s hips.

He didn’t sit long before a pair of women walked up to him. They looked flushed and happy same as Val and Fran and when they smiled widely at him he couldn’t help but smile back. This was a nice evening so far, he thought.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” one of the women asked, getting unnecessarily close since Castiel’s hearing was aided by his grace.

“Not at all,” he said sincerely and the women looked at each other. “Please,” he gestured to the other side of the booth and they slid in.

Their pleased faces fell a little when he got up, though. He smiled goodbye to them nonetheless, uncertain why one of them looked disappointed, and then he walked off in the direction of the restrooms.

There was a line outside the women’s and he spotted Val and Fran just inside the door, talking animatedly with each other. The door to the men’s restroom was closed but opened occasionally as someone entered or exited and Castiel decided to stand to the side and wait for Stan. He let his grace wander and found the man conscious inside the restroom and that was all Castiel needed to know.

It didn’t take long for Stan to join him and Castiel couldn’t help but smile, feeling his grace squirm with delight.

“Cas?” Stan walked up to him, taking his hand and that, for some reason, made Castiel feel even hotter. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Castiel watched Stan’s emotions flitter over his face, enjoying the nuances. “A pair of ladies asked if the seats were free, I assumed they were tired from dancing so I let them have the booth.”

“Did they now?” Stan mumbled and looked in the direction of their booth, even though they couldn’t see it from this angle. “Are you sure they only asked to sit?”

Castiel frowned. “I am. I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Stan immediately focused back on him, smiling widely. “I think you do everything right,” he said, his voice low and making Castiel’s skin prickle. “Wanna go grab something to drink? How about a shot?”

Castiel momentarily panicked. Why would Stan want to get shot? Without thinking, Castiel reached out with his free hand, putting it on Stan’s chest, calming when he felt the man’s heart under his palm. No, of course Stan didn’t want to get shot, he wanted _a_ shot. Alcohol.

“Yes,” Castiel smiled, finding Stan’s pupil’s a little blown when he looked up at him, only then realizing how close they were standing. “A shot sounds nice. Should we wait for the girls?”

“No,” Stan stated, his voice a little raspy. “I want you for myself for a while again.”

Castiel couldn’t argue that (didn’t want to) so he just nodded and followed when Stan tugged him in the direction of the bar again. They ended up standing on one end of it, the bar packed with people. Castiel didn’t mind, Stan seemed familiar enough with this scene that Castiel felt confident in letting the man take charge. With that in mind, Castiel stood behind Stan’s back as Stan leaned against the bar, chatting with a man on his right about the kinds of drinks offered.

Castiel felt warmth emanate from Stan and enjoyed it enough to drift closer while his mind focused on the crowd around them. He felt safe and calm around Stan but it didn’t hurt to be cautious and as always in new surrounds, Castiel let his grace scan crowds continuously, looking for threats. This seemed like a nice and quiet place though (aside from the loud music, Castiel was actually getting concerned for Stan’s hearing), and he detected no threats.

He did notice, however, a lot of attention directed at Stan. Women and men alike looked at him with greedy eyes and Castiel’s grace reared up when he picked up on it. It wasn’t threatening stares, but _coveting_, and for some reason that made Castiel snarl.

Stan was here with him, after all, not to be a piece of meat for other people to ogle. His grace surged through him and he’d put a hand on the small of Stan’s back before he could stop himself. The man’s skin was warm through his shirt and Castiel flexed his fingers there, digging them in.

The touch made Stan turn to him with wide eyes.

“Cas?”

“People are looking at you,” Castiel growled, voice low but he knew Stan heard him anyway. “I don’t like it.”

Stan made a sound, high-pitched, as he drew a surprised breath and Castiel liked that sound, felt his body respond favorably to it. He pressed his hand harder against Stan, grabbing him more than just touching.

“They just want to get to the bar,” Stan mumbled, a little breathless and Castiel’s eyes cut to Stan’s, making the other man hitch a breath again.

“No,” he rumbled, crowding in on Stan. “They desire you and I don’t like it, I—”

He stopped himself, suddenly very aware of Stan’s wide eyes.

“They’re looking at you too,” Stan mumbled then, hand grabbing the hem of Castiel’s shirt lightly. “You’re very handsome, Cas.”

“I…” Castiel looked around himself but didn’t see what Stan was talking about. Maybe someone was looking, but not in a way his grace would alert him to. “I don’t care, I’m here with you.”

Stan swallowed hard and turned to the bar just as the bartender put down two shots of a black liquid. Castiel fretted for a moment, thinking he had overstepped boundaries, surely. He was behaving very unlike himself and he couldn’t even blame the alcohol, although perhaps Stan would accept that as an excuse.

“Bottoms up,” Stan murmured when he turned back, handing one glass to Cas before sweeping the other in one go.

Castiel watched his throat work, feeling a warmth curl low in his abdomen at the sight. He downed his own shot before Stan caught him staring, grimacing at the taste.

“I did _not_ enjoy that.”

“It’s Jager, no one enjoys it,” Stan laughed and thumped their glasses down on the bar again before pushing to get away from it, leading Castiel to the mass of people behind them. “Come on, I wanna dance.”

Castiel wanted to protest because he didn’t know how to dance, was about as coordinated as a brick wall, but when Stan had pulled him to where he wanted to be it became exceedingly clear that this wasn’t as much about dancing as it was about grinding together. And Castiel could _definitely_ do _that_.

“I’m sorry for my behavior,” he said, speaking directly against Stan’s ear so the human would be able to hear him. “I’m not usually that possessive.”

A shudder went through Stan’s body and he pressed impossibly closer.

“I liked it,” he murmured, making Castiel flush. They were pressed together so close that there was no air at all between them. Knees knocking, Castiel had his hands on Stan’s hips and Stan wrapped his strong arms around Castiel’s shoulders, rolling against him. “I like a lot about you, Cas.”

Around them, people “danced” in a similar fashion, Castiel and Stan now caught in the sway of the music same as everyone else. It was hot and humid, the people loud and the music louder. And yet, when Castiel looked at Stan it was as if all else fell away. Their faces were inches apart, Stan’s lips looked moist, possibly from the drink earlier or because he’d recently licked them. Castiel wanted to lick them too.

With effort, he unfolded his massive wings, battered and bruised, the few feathers that remained on the skeletal frames bent and ruffled. It hurt and his grace burned hot to ease it, but it was worth it when he wrapped them around Stan, protecting the man’s back from the people around them. Stan of course couldn’t see and couldn’t feel, but he seemed to notice something because he sighed, eyelids fluttering as he melted against Castiel’s chest.

“I like a lot about you too, Stan,” Castiel rumbled, hands’ sliding, one lower to cup the man’s impressing buttocks and the other up Stan’s back to hold him close. “Much more than I thought I would.”

“Cas,” Stan almost whimpered and the sound invoked something in Castiel.

Cast him momentarily out of the scene and to the bunker, his grace calling on Dean. _Dean_. A stab of guilt split Castiel’s heart because what was he doing, standing here with another man when it was Dean he loved, Dean that he wanted to feel like this. Wanted to hold the righteous man in his arms and shower him with devotion and desire. The guilt bubbled up, choking him. What was he _doing_? He should—

And then Stan locked their lips together and Castiel’s mind blanked out.

The kiss started out hesitant, Stan clearly testing the waters, and when Castiel’s grace washed over the man he sensed that hesitation in Stan’s soul as well. But Castiel liked the feeling of it and he felt eager to explore more. Kissing Stan turned out to not be much different from kissing April, in the sense that the mechanics were the same. But the emotions, the physical feeling of it, the arousal that threatened to choke him, that was all very different and highly enjoyable. More similar to how it had felt kissing Meg, but in a way _more_ somehow.

He gripped Stan tightly when it felt like the man was pulling away. He put one hand on the back of Stan’s head, gripping the short hair and directing the man’s head the way he wanted it. For a moment, he allowed the kiss to break off so that Stan could draw a deep breath and Castiel got a chance to look at the man’s face, to discern his feelings about this whole development.

All he saw was raw desire and a slightly dazed look so Castiel thought that maybe Stan would be okay with continuing. But before he got to make that decision, Stan made it for him by once again capturing Castiel’s lips. This time there was more urgency to it and Stan moaned against Castiel’s mouth when he opened up so that their tongues could slide together.

Stan was a hot and hard line against Castiel’s body and he enjoyed grabbing the man’s muscles even as he battled Stan’s tongue into submission. The way Castiel pulled on Stan’s hair, turning his head, dominating the kiss, had Stan moaning and rolling against Castiel, completely out of sync with the music. He grabbed at Castiel too, clinging to him, the kisses getting hotter and heavier, and Castiel could feel Stan’s erection pressing against him at the same moment as he realized that he was hard himself.

“Cas,” Stan gasped when Castiel turned to nip at the skin under the man’s ear. “Cas, you’re so hot.”

Yes, Castiel thought, everything was much too hot and yet all he could do was wrap Stan tighter in his wings, keeping the man out of reach from everyone else. Making him Castiel’s alone as he once again claimed Stan’s lips for himself.

* * *

Stan sat in his kitchen, head in hands, regretting his whole existence. Val had just left after bringing him a blueberry muffin and coffee from Bev’s as consolation. Both things remained untouched on the kitchen island in front of him.

He just couldn’t _believe_ he’d gone and kissed Cas like that, while _drunk_. What must Cas think of him now? God, what little Stan could actually remember indicated that it had been a spectacular kiss and he wanted more like nothing else but it still felt too soon. Cas was still clearly hung up on his Dean and Stan still felt raw and used since James left him.

And yet, when he was with Cas everything seemed so simple. Cas, who could drink like no one else and who held Stan tightly while kissing. When they’d kissed on that dancefloor, the whole world had seemed to melt away, that Stan remembered well. It’d felt as if Cas’ whole being encapsulate him in a cocoon and Stan had never felt so safe. 

But Cas seemed so cautious at times, maybe because of his thing with Dean or because he simply didn’t know how to manage Stan. Maybe he wasn’t that used to relationships at all? Stan didn’t know (wanted desperately to know) but he felt he should be careful with Cas so he wouldn’t scare him off. And kissing the man and then getting sick from all the drinking seemed like a perfect way to scare anyone off…

Jesus Christ, Stan barely remembered getting home and he was pretty sure Cas had been with him in the toilet while he vomited. According to what Val had told him before leaving today, Cas seemed to have been the one to completely take care of Stan and he wouldn’t be surprised if he had been the one to bring him home too, although Val mentioned that she and Fran were in the car with them.

Stan had been prepared to bury himself under a rock and never see the light of day again and Val had been prepared to pamper him all day but then Cas had texted and now Stan was a sweaty mess waiting for the man to arrive. Cas’ curt “can I come over?” felt daunting and Stan was sure Cas was coming here to tell him that he wasn’t prepared to have _that_ kind of relationship with Stan. That he was just looking for a friend. That maybe they should see less of each other for a while.

“No…” Stan almost whimpered, hands squeezing his head in self-pity.

Sure, he didn’t completely know what he wanted from Cas (wasn’t even sure he even wanted a relationship at all right now) but he knew for sure that he didn’t want to lose him.

His whole body jolted when the doorbell rang. His brain gave a painful twitch but the bastard of a headache he’d woken up with had at least subsided to a manageable mulling, thanks to Val force-feeding him omelet and Aspirin.

He got up and dragged himself over to the door, dreading a painful goodbye. 

Surprisingly, Cas looked as fresh as ever and Stan just stared for a moment after opening the door, knowing that he himself looked as if he’d been through a meat grinder. Cas just stared right back, patiently waiting for Stan to open the door more or at least say something.

“Um, sorry,” Stan stepped to the side, holding the door open for Cas to enter. “I was just surprised.”

“About me coming over?”

Cas sounded genuinely wondering and Stan couldn’t help but smile a little as he shut the door. Cas was back in his usual clothes and if Stan didn’t know better he would say Cas had only one outfit (or two, counting what he’d had on at the club).

“No,” he started walking back to the kitchen, intent on offering Cas something to drink. “You just look so good,” he whipped around when he realized exactly what he’d said, only to find a pleased little smile tugging at Cas’ lips. “I meant, um, like you don’t look hungover at all.”

Cas tilted his head to the side. “I’m not?”

Stan shook his head, feeling tired and anxious. He walked over to the kitchen island when they entered the kitchen, leaning on it.

“You drank just as much as me and I even threw up and…” he sighed. Shouldn’t have reminded Cas about that on the off chance that he’d forgotten.

“Yes,” Cas said and walked right into Stan’s personal space, hand hovering for a moment as if he wanted to touch Stan’s forehead. “I have been worried, how are you?”

Stan swallowed, eyes roaming Cas’ face. God he was handsome, it was almost unfair. That jawline and that nose accounted for very straight lines, sharp in a certain light even, and Stan found himself helplessly drawn to him.

“I-I’m…” Stan’s hands trembled. “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

That, of all things, had clearly not been what Cas had anticipated to hear. The show of emotions on his face was very fine but Stan could see the surprise washing over him. The air around them felt electric and Stan thought it wasn’t the first time. Mostly when Cas was close, Stan felt like electrical discharged passed between them and as the hopeless romantic he was he thought that maybe that was the pulse they always talked about in movies and books. The ZING from _Hotel Transylvania_, for example. But he couldn’t afford to be presumptuous, he thought.

“Why?” Cas asked, his tone lower, eyes serious. “Didn’t you like it?”

“Of course I did,” Stan said in a rush, his tone almost breathless for some reason. A tremor went through him when he saw Cas’ pleased smile, this time much more distinct. “But I—”

“I did too.”

“What?”

“A lot,” Cas stepped even closer, knees knocking. Stan’s breath caught in his throat, his body flushing hot. “I liked kissing you, Stan.”

The sound Stan made then was not one it he was proud of (whiny and needy) but it prompted Cas into action and that was glorious.

Strong hands gripped Stan’s sides, Cas stretching up to kiss Stan hotly. All doubt momentarily fled out Stan’s mind because oh my God, _yes_ he wanted this. Cas kissed very meticulously, like a man on a mission, and Stan melted from the sure way Cas held him. He put his thick arms around Cas’ neck, hands up in his fluffy hair, tugging a little and _God_, that made Cas _growl_ against Stan’s mouth.

“Cas,” Stan moaned, way more wantonly than he’d ever heard himself, and Cas shushed him before licking his lips, begging entrance.

No, not begging. As Cas took control over the kiss, easily battling Stan into submission, it became very clear that Cas didn’t beg during sex. He demanded and Stan wanted to give him everything. He spread his legs, inviting Cas to slot in between and when he did, it became abundantly clear that Cas was enjoying this kiss as well.

The feeling of his hot and hard cock against Stan’s pelvis was enough to make Stan moan again and he hadn’t really realized how much he longed for a good dicking until now. Stan’s own dick twitched hard in his sweatpants and he squirmed as Cas gripped him tighter, hands brushing down Stan’s back to grab his ass even as Cas pressed him against the kitchen island.

A hot chill went through him, scorching him, and he arched against Cas, momentarily breaking off the kiss. Cas seemed undeterred and just nosed over Stan’s scruffy cheek to mouth at his jawline instead. They rolled together and Stan squeezed his eyes shut against a wave of arousal when Cas started nipping at his beating pulse.

He grabbed at Cas, trying to get closer, and it made Cas growl again, the sound so foreign to Stan and yet so enticing. Cas felt like a caged beast, all ready to devour Stan and he loved it. He nudged his nose against Cas’ temple and whined, eager to get a kiss again and Cas allowed it with a little smile. His eyes almost seemed to shine and Stan squeezed his tightly shut as Cas joined their lips again, tongue fast to snake into Stan’s mouth.

The meticulousness seemed to slip off a bit as Cas got hotter, more eager. Instead everything got urgent, the way their lips slid together fervent with the attraction that made the air around them crackle and sparkle. Stan shuddered and felt small and sheltered in Cas’ hands, legs trembling as he struggled with remaining standing even though he was so aroused he could taste it. Cas, in contrast, seemed as steady as a rock and that somehow made Stan feel even hotter.

Then suddenly Cas brushed his hands over Stan’s butt and down under, grabbing just where his ass met his thighs. Stan broke off the kiss, momentarily confused by where Cas was going, and then he made a little squeaking sound as Cas _lifted him onto the island_.

Cas, smaller than Stan in probably every sense, _lifted_ Stan as if he weighed nothing. Positioned him right on the edge of the kitchen island, manhandled him to spread his knees even wider so that Cas could step in between and roll up against him.

Stan lost his breath. His dick jumped and blurted out precome as the fire in him turned to molten lava. He whined, _loudly_, and fisted Cas’ hair as he proceeded with kissing down Stan’s neck while his hands roamed Stan’s back.

“Cas, oh my _God_,” Stan choked out, feeling completely at Cas’ mercy and loving it.

“Don’t blaspheme,” Cas grunted, making Stan squeeze his eyes shut as desire rushed through him.

“I’m sorry.”

Cas just grunted again, something unintelligible, and for the first time let his hands wander under Stan’s shirt. Hot hands on hot skin made the contact feel searing to the touch and Stan’s eyes flew open.

_“Is he gonna fuck me?”_ the thought seemed wild but not implausible. _“Am I gonna let him fuck me in my kitchen? Are we really doing this?”_

Reality crashed over him and broke the bubble Cas’ presence had created for him. All his insecurities from before came back and he found himself putting his hands on Cas’ shoulders before he’d even completely made up his mind.

“Cas,” he mumbled, voice rushed. “Cas, can we stop?”

A shiver went through Cas and he stopped moving immediately. He remained stock still for a moment and then he stepped out with his lower half, bending a little as a new shiver went through him. Stan remained where he was, staring at the top of Cas’ head, hands still resting on Cas’ shoulders.

After a moment Cas drew a big breath and righted himself, a small and apologetical smile on his kiss-swollen lips. He barely looked flushed but his eyes were brighter than ever and God was he handsome…

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gravelly enough that Stan thought it might hurt his vocal cords. Sounded sexy as hell, though. “I got carried away.”

“No, no,” Stan smiled too, feeling a little stupid. He let his hands slide down Cas’ arms and tried to tug him closer but Cas stubbornly remained where he was and the fact that Stan couldn’t move him felt so… so _sexy_, for some reason. “I got carried away too. You’re… very good at kissing.”

Cas huffed out a laugh, hanging his head for a moment and still not moving closer. “You’re incredibly erotic, Stan.”

“Cas, why don’t you come up here?” he tugged again and Cas lifted his head, expression pinched for a moment.

“I’m not…” he studied Stan’s face for a moment and Stan found himself stunned by the seriousness and desire he saw in Cas’ eyes. “I’m not very experienced when it comes to sexual relations. I have a hard time controlling my body.”

Stan made a surprised little sound. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying if I step back between your legs and feel your heat against me I might not be able to stop the next time,” he smiled fondly. “And I would never want to hurt you.”

Stan felt… _giddy_, for some reason. This was just too adorable for him right now.

“Well,” he said, voice ladled with his poorly suppressed smugness. “That’s alright then,” he played with the lapels on Cas’ coat for a moment, his own dick still definitely in the game, especially with how Cas kept looking at him. “I’m sorry I stopped us,” he said after a little while, when the urge to start kissing Cas again rose anew. “But I guess… I’m not really ready yet, to… to have sex and all.”

Cas nodded and straightened a little, though he kept himself at a distance. He put his hands on Stan’s thighs, still remaining between Stan’s knees, though. A quick glance down confirmed that he was still somewhat hard and Stan felt fresh arousal lick his spine at the sight.

“Because of James?”

Cas didn’t know much about it, just that Stan had broken up with his long-time boyfriend quite recently. Well, it had been almost six months now and Val kept telling him it wasn’t very “recent” anymore but to Stan the wounds were still fresh.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat when he heard how raspy it sounded. “He hurt me, we were together for a long time and when he left me he said it was because he’d fallen in love with someone else and that he hadn’t loved me for… for years,” he smiled unexpectedly, feeling better saying this out loud to Cas. “It made me feel used, and not in a sexy way.”

Cas regarded him for a moment, head tilted to the side, and then he reached up and put his hand against Stan’s cheek, cupping it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and Stan felt as if a wave of warmth washed over him. He closed his eyes, sighing out a smile. “You deserve more. You are beautiful and special, you deserve to be loved.”

Val had said the same thing _many_ times but now, with Cas touching him so reverently, Stan truly believed those words for the first time. Yeah, fuck James, Stan was completely spectacular all on his own and he didn’t need the validation of a _man_ to make him feel good about himself.

When he opened his eyes he felt much better than he had done in months. Even his hangover seemed washed away, making him feel completely revived.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely and with some astonishment. Guess all it took for him to get over James was a new outlook on life.

Cas smiled a secret smile, as if he had seen something precious, and bent in to peck Stan on his lips. It was most definitely intended to be a quick kiss but Stan held him close and deepened it for a moment, a thrill going through him when he realized that Cas was letting him.

“You’re welcome,” Cas murmured when they broke apart, a grin spreading on his lips.

“No way you’re not experienced with sex,” Stan blurted, completely overwhelmed by only a kiss. He laughed breathlessly when Cas looked surprised. “You’re _insanely _good at kissing.”

“Oh, well,” Cas looked proud of himself and it was so adorable that Stan almost melted. “You _are_ the fourth person I've kissed, though you’re the first man.”

“Hold on,” Stan exclaimed, surprised beyond belief. “You haven’t even kissed a man before?”

“No?” Cas squinted, hands flexing on Stan’s thighs. “And I have only slept with one person. Does that bother you?”

“N-no!”

“But it does confuse you.”

Stan floundered for the right words to express himself for a moment, stomach churning with the need to put Cas at ease like the man had done for him.

“Well I’m just surprised, Cas,” he eventually laughed, hands cupping Cas’ stubbled cheeks. “You’re very sexy, especially for someone with so little experience, and I can barely believe no one’s snatched you up. You’re very…” he smiled more intimately. “Very attractive.”

“Oh,” Cas almost seemed to preen, his eyes radiant. “I supposed I’ve been preoccupied. With work and…” he quieted and looked down.

“And Dean,” Stan mumbled, giving Cas an encouraging smile when the man looked up again. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Cas sighed. “I need to move on, my situation with Dean isn’t improving.”

Stan felt a surge go through him at the thought that maybe _he_ could be the cataclysm to make Cas step away and forge a great new life for himself. It was clear to him that whatever had happened or was happening between Dean and Cas, it was incredibly hurtful for Cas and Stan truly believed he deserved happiness.

“Taking the first step towards change is never easy,” he said comfortingly, watching with satisfaction how Cas’ eyes seemed to twinkle.

“No,” Cas agreed in an intimate murmur. “But you make it seem worth it.”

Well, if Stan’s hangover didn’t already seemed cured, it damn sure would have been right then and there. Cas was simply good for Stan’s soul and with time, Stan hoped he could be the same for Cas.


	4. Umbrellas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! You've all been so sweet that I decided to throw in a little treat in the end notes. It's a pic of the protagonist from a Korean Manhwa ([The Boss Is Too Much](https://myreadingmanga.info/dageum-the-boss-is-too-much-eng/), warning: NSFW) that I stumbled upon while writing this and that I feel absolutely represents Stan just beautifully. Now, I imagine him with blonder hair and blue eyes but everything else about that pic is just spot on! I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did haha!
> 
> Now, onward with the chapter! Heads up for Casturbation, angst, and Salerie ♥♥♥
> 
> (also, a special shoutout to Elisa, who knows what she contributed to this chapter. I hope the end result is satisfying, love!)

It used to be that Castiel was very apt at controlling his vessel’s reactions but over the years that feat had become harder and harder to perform. He suspected it started around the time Raphael blew him and Jimmy up and Jimmy’s soul ascended to Heaven, leaving Castiel alone in a body recreated by God for his use alone. That made his vessel less of a vessel and more of an actual body for him to inhabit and it had made him more sensitive to outward influences. Still manageable, though.

Then there had been his brief brush with humanity during the later stages of the Apocalypse. At the time, Castiel hadn’t thought much of how much that affected him other than it slowing him down and it had anyhow passed rather quickly.

Then, of course, his time as an actual human had happened and that had been… _interesting_ to say the least. Castiel had been subjected to an innumerable amount of sensations and experiences then, most of which he felt he could rather be without. Becoming an angel again, but working on stolen grace had been torturous, but not so much on a human level, he supposed. And then he’d finally gotten his own grace back and had (rather childishly) thought his troubles were over.

But as Castiel had learned over the years, humanity tended to stick, for better and for worse, and even though he was a full angel again he struggled with decidedly human reactions and emotions on an almost daily basis.

His grace, though severely depleted, worked to alleviate most minor ailments but there were some that he had to focus harder on. And restricting blood flow to battle a persistent erection was definitely one of them. Thankfully, Castiel mostly went without such troubles arising but they did, most notably around Dean.

For years, Castiel had had to control sudden urges and physical reactions and for a long while he hadn’t understood the reason for them. Oh it had gotten clear to him a while ago, he was no fool, but he had yet to particularly acknowledge them. When he was human, he had been forced to deal with his situations and it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it but rather that the act felt empty most of the time. The reason for that emptiness had revealed itself the moment Castiel had understood that he didn’t just admire Dean, he was actually in love with him.

But the hunter being the man he was, Castiel had stubbornly continued to suppress his body’s more obvious reactions to certain situations, even when alone. He had enjoyed thinking about it (thinking about Dean like that) but he hadn’t really acted on it.

But now, after sharing those kisses with Stan and then spending the whole day in the man’s comfortable company, Castiel felt the strain his grace was under from suppressing his arousal and he thought that enough was enough.

Stan had been spectacular at the club, even though that kissing session had ended with the man throwing up. Then today, when Stan had been so remorseful about his actions but yet so eager for more, Castiel had barely been able to contain himself. It had probably been prudent of Stan to stop them, Castiel thought, considering that they weren’t in that kind of relationship (that Castiel knew of). Humans were after all very particular about what should be done in each kind of relationship, as Dean so blatantly had shown Castiel.

But even so, stopping when Stan had asked him to had been torture. Castiel thought he’d never been that aroused before in his very long existence and had he been a mortal man he would have had to excuse himself to the bathroom to beat off, as Dean would have put it.

But Castiel was an angel and he had acted accordingly and had used his grace to smother his erection, which hadn’t been easy. The arousal he’d been stuck with all day and since Stan seemed to be a man who liked to touch a lot, Castiel’s situation had only worsened over the hours. They had spent some time talking, mostly Stan telling him about James and his family and things that had held him back for a long time, and then Stan had cooked him a delightful dinner, which Castiel sadly hadn’t tasted much of. He was still learning to look past the grating molecules and he thought he’d detected a hint of coriander and curry and he’d wished with all his heart that he would have been able to enjoy it like it deserved.

Castiel didn’t know for sure, but it seemed like Stan was a good cook and it grated on Castiel that he wasn’t able to appreciate it as much as he wanted to. The same went for the few times Dean cooked. Castiel had come to understand (from Sam, mostly), that Dean was in actuality a great cook, especially considering they had mostly grown up on fast food and diner cuisine. Castiel just wished it was as easy with food as it was with beverages but he supposed it had to do with the composition of the molecules.

After dinner, he and Stan had taken a long walk and Stan had shyly reached for Castiel’s hand, his soul singing with happiness when Castiel gripped him tightly. That alluring call of Stan’s soul accompanied with the skin-on-skin contact had made Castiel acutely aware of how his arousal still simmered there under the surface and now, when he returned to the bunker, he had already decided that this would be one occasion where he wouldn’t ignore his body’s needs anymore.

He found Sam in the library, on his laptop, and grunted a quick hello before he continued deeper into the bunker to his room. He didn’t see Dean on the way and didn’t particularly search for him either, intent on being alone for a moment. It was still early (by their standards) but the brothers knew Castiel sometimes meditated and they tended to leave him alone during that time, incorrectly assuming he was replenishing his grace during that time.

As soon as he entered his room he shut the door and leaned on it, thumping his head back as he let his grace relax away from its strenuous duty.

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth against a gasp when blood rushed to his dick, engorging it almost immediately. The fire in his groin spread slowly, seeping into his every limb and making his skull itch. He licked his lips, a shudder going through him as he embraced the arousal when it flared hotly within him.

He stood for a moment, just leaning against the door and feeling his dick strain against his boxers and slacks, and then pushed off the door, walking over to his largely unused bed. He shed his coat and suit jacket, loosening his tie to pull it over his head and throw all his clothes carelessly on the desk opposite his bed.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand on his dick squeezing slightly. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the act of masturbation but he was always a little overwhelmed at how _much_ he would feel. A new shudder went through him as pleasure burst through his senses and he couldn’t help but massaging his dick a while longer than intended.

As good as it felt, though, being trapped in his clothes was less than ideal. After a moment’s hesitation he toed off his shoes as well and then swung his legs up on the bed, stretching out on his back. He huffed when a new spike of pleasure went through him as his slacks were drawn taut over his dick.

Hands flat on the bed beside his hips, he spent a few heart-beats just rolling his hips up into nothing, enjoying how the fabric stretched and pulled on his sensitive parts. Arousal crested inside him, wave after wave, and he closed his eyes again, thoughts going back to what had happened in Stan’s kitchen.

The man was very erotic in the way he sounded and moved, Castiel thought, recalling Stan’s every breathless little moan and the way he squeezed Castiel between his powerful thighs. Stan was a big man, tall and strong, and Castiel found it exhilarating that Stan wanted to be held the way Castiel seemed to need to hold him. In that moment, feeling Stan’s lips against his, Castiel had let primal instincts take over and he was immensely pleased that Stan reacted favorably to how Castiel in essence manhandled him.

He gasped when a particularly powerful pleasure spike hit him. He could feel his balls draw tight, heavy and round, in need of release, and he relished the feeling. Jimmy Novak had, surprisingly, been uncircumcised and Castiel enjoyed the way the foreskin rolled now, up and over the frenulum and down again, the movement deliciously stunted by his boxers.

His eyes flew open when his grace alerted him to a presence outside his door. His senses were foggy because of his aroused state and he knew there would be little he could do to hide his erection fast enough right now. But the presence stayed outside his door and Castiel breathed out, recognizing Dean’s soul.

He waited with bated breath for a knock but none came and Castiel frowned, eyes drawn to the floor where he could barely see Dean’s shadow cutting through the light from the hallway. A quick sweep with his grace revealed a yearning in Dean’s soul and when Castiel closed his eyes he could see the man before him, palm flat on the door, forehead leaned against it, but somehow unable to push for what he needed.

Castiel snarled to himself, fed up with their situation, and reached down to pop the button on his slacks, pulling down the zipper. He arched his back as he pushed down his boxers and slacks enough for his erect dick to come out, slapping up against his stomach and making him groan lowly.

Dean shifted outside the door but didn’t leave.

Truth be told, Castiel was unsure how much could be heard outside the rooms. For him, with his angelic hearing and the aid of his grace, almost nothing was left to the imagination if he really focused on hearing. But what could a human, with their limited senses, pick up?

Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly), the thought of Dean listening in on him now excited Castiel even more. His dick swelled and when he took it in hand he felt the blood pulsing through it. A few strokes later, Castiel was already writhing on the bed, mind blanking out with pleasure. And if it hadn’t been for the way his grace kept insistently picking at Dean’s soul, Castiel would probably have forgotten his surroundings as well.

As it was now, all the world melted away, the existence rendered down to a simple man on a bed, and another man leaning against a door, both yearning for each other but still out of reach.

Castiel gasped as his pleasure burned through him, searing him from inside out. He gripped the sheets with one hand, the other pumping faster and faster even as his hips bucked up to meet the strokes. A full day of arousal caught up to him quickly and his whole body shuddered with the need to release.

Eyes scrunched shut, teeth gritted against any noise, Castiel watched greedily with his inner eye as his grace easily recreated images of Dean. A part of him didn’t want to see, was still mad at the hunter and wanted to turn back to images of Stan instead, but it was a battle he lost before he even started and the more he indulged in Dean, the faster his pleasure pumped.

Feet flat on the bed, his toes curled as he thrusted up into his hand, grace wrapping possessively around Dean’s soul. Then suddenly Dean let out a little gasp, as if he could feel Castiel’s grace gripping his soul tightly as Castiel’s arousal peaked, and it threw Castiel over the edge. He came hot and hard, all over his stomach and chest, a groan punched out of him as he jerked and shook on the bed.

Senses heightened, he picked up Dean moving again, away from the door, and he longed to call out to the man but refrained, instead settling for that gasp Dean had given him. Too low to have been heard by a human but loud to Castiel’s sensitive ears.

Sated, Castiel rested back against the bed, relaxing his muscles and pulling his grace back, content to let it clean him as he floated on his afterglow, mind pleasantly calm.

* * *

Stakeouts were never Dean’s idea of a good time. Stakeouts with Sam in the car with him while Cas waited on the other side of the building was even worse. Sure, Cas was an angel again and he had his own grace and everything but he was still just _one_ guy. One dorky, little guy and this was one motherfucker of a Djinn and fucking hell if Cas was caught and drained and _died_ Dean would blow up this fucking building.

“We should just go in.”

“We need proof,” Sam stated tiredly and yeah, yeah, they’d been over this.

Dean supposed he was just cranky because Cas had been the one to suggest he go sit by himself when Sam brought up splitting up.

“I’m an angel,” Cas had said, voice gravelly and demanding when Dean vehemently had protested. “I can handle myself better than you two.”

Which was to say he could take a punch better but what about Djinn poison? They didn’t know if he would be affected and drifting off to dreamland. Maybe he had already been caught by some angel kryptonite and he was slowly dying as they sat here drinking coffee and eating donuts. Dean felt jittery, his leg jumping until Sam gave him a grumpy bitchface.

“Don’t you think he should have come out by now?”

“If you ask me one more time I’m turning the car around and driving home.”

Dean stared petulantly out the window, pretending he could see Cas’ shadow so he knew the angel was alright. He considered mentioning that _he_ was the one driving and he could just as well strand Sammy here but decided against it in the end.

The building they were watching wasn’t very big, above ground. But it had a huge underground network and Sam didn’t want them skulking around looking for the Djinn while it skulked right after them. Cas had assured Sam that he would be able to feel the Djinn when it got close enough, though he’d seemed ashamed that he couldn’t sense the monster from afar like when he’d been stronger (grace wise). Dean was just happy Cas wasn’t dying from grace depletion and he would rather everyone stayed alive. So, stakeout. Dean hated it.

What he had come to realize that he hated even more was this thing with _Stan_. Stan, who apparently was _super_ fun to hang out with. What the hell did they even talk about? Stan, a fucking _human_, had nothing in common with Cas, a cosmic entity of infinite proportions. Sam had told Dean he was being a child when he’d voiced that question so now Dean stubbornly kept his doubts to himself.

Because oh he had _doubts_ alright. He was just fucking waiting for Cas to come home being all despondent because Stan moved on to someone who could give him what he wanted. Not that… not that Dean doubted that Cas could handle sex…

Fuck, Dean just wanted to punch himself every time he remembered standing outside Cas’ door a couple of days ago, listening. He couldn’t hear much of course, those doors held sound pretty well, but damn, there had been a _groan_ and Dean’s hesitation first born from anxiety had morphed into hesitation stemming from weird arousal and confusion. He’d heard Cas groan before, but only in pain, and this had been different. More… _heated_. And ever since Cas lost his fucking virginity to April (that bitch), Dean hadn’t stopped imagining it and he was sure _that_ was why he was thinking about Cas like that so often, because he was curious, nothing else. Everyone thought of their friends like that at some point and—yeah Dean knew he was kidding himself but fucking hell, standing outside Cas’ door while the angel jerked off was too much and too little at the same time.

Anyway, the _point_ was that Stan would dump Cas soon and Dean didn’t want his friend to get hurt, that was all. Just the thought of Cas standing there outside in the wind, smiling down at his phone as he texted with _Stan_, made Dean’s heart clench. Because he was scared his friend might get disappointed in the long run. Because he didn’t want Cas to get sad. Because…

Dean sighed and leaned forward, flicking on the radio. Static came through and he turned the knobs for a moment before finding a station that seemed okay enough. It was playing some preppy pop song and he barely listened to it, comforted by the background sound as he settled against the backrest, eyes trained on the building.

Sam thankfully remained quiet for a long while, the only sound the radio station shuffling through songs. Dean stared with unseeing eyes at the building while Sam alternated between checking his phone and looking around them. Dean was sorely tempted to ask if Sam was checking in on Cas. Because fuck knew Cas was barely texting Dean nowadays and Dean was loathe to admit it but he missed the weird emoji filled texts.

Look, it wasn’t that Dean hadn’t understood by now that he was the one at fault. For one, Sammy had hammered it in plenty, and also, Dean wasn’t _stupid_. He knew his deflecting on that movie night weeks ago had hurt Cas deeply and though Dean wasn’t really sure _why_ the angel had reacted so violently to his (fucking insanely stupid) words, Dean at least understood that he was hurt. But the thing was that apologizing was tough and feelings were even tougher and _maybe_, if Cas hadn’t run off to find someone new for a best friend Dean could have dealt better, okay?

As it was now, Cas was barely home when they were home. He spent hours and hours on end together with Stan, doing fuck knew what. So sure, Dean had fucked up from the beginning but Cas wasn’t really letting him try to make up for it either so there was that too.

Dean sank lower in his seat, crossing his arms when an unexpected twinge of pain stabbed him in the chest. Was probably heartburn, he wasn’t exactly young anymore.

Pop song after pop song replaced each other and then came something softer. A woman singing about holding hands or whatever. Dean didn’t listen too much, if it wasn’t classic rock he didn’t really care about the music. Except Taylor Swift but he would literally kill anyone if they pointed that out to his face.

Then the music picked up, blaring out of the tinny speakers and there was something about walking through hell together. About not being alone, about [standing together](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwB9EMpW8eY).

Dean’s eyes shifted to the radio, feeling his chest tighten.

_You’re all I never knew I needed_, the woman sang, voice bright with conviction. _If your wings are broken, we can brave through those emotions too_.

Well… fuck.

“Pretty—” Dean had to clear his throat. “Pretty girly song, huh?”

Sam just sighed. The woman sang _I’ll be your eyes when yours can’t shine_ and Dean thought _“fuck, this is Cas and me, innit?”,_ his throat tighter than his chest.

“Just sayin’, this is some kind of preteen disco shit.”

She sang about breaking through, again about walking through hell together, if they couldn’t find heaven, and Dean’s mind ran rampant with images of Cas doing that for Dean. Finding him, gripping him tight, never leaving his side.

“I mean—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean!” Sam snapped, giving Dean a glare worthy of the sun. “I’m gonna go take a piss, you better have gotten over whatever this is before I get back.”

With that he shoved out of the car and slammed the door. Dean turned up the volume and listened to the music cresting as the woman sang _Love, you’re not alone, ‘cause I’m gonna stand by you_. Just like Cas had done since he pulled Dean out of hell all those years ago, until now. Until Dean’s big mouth and Stan. The song finished with a soft _I’m gonna stand by you_ and Dean had to blink away unexpected tears.

He leaned back, facing the roof of the car, drawing a shuddering breath. Fucking hell, guess he was more affected by Cas not constantly being by his side than he’d thought.

_“I should be the one,”_ he thought sadly. _“I should have been the one to stand by his side. Like Sam does for him. Like friends should.”_

But just thinking that made Dean feel as if stabbed, his breath robbed and his heart thudding painfully.

The next song that came on was clearly [a rockabilly one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sestSq6hRHI). Dean blinked away more tears and looked out the windshield as the music almost immediately picked up the pace. He thought he recognized the text but wondered if this was a remix of some other song. They sang about being there forever, always being friends, and Dean’s resolve hardened even more. He _needed_ to be there for Cas because fucking hell, maybe this thing with Stan _would_ work out and Dean wasn’t prepared to lose his best friend over it. If Cas wanted to get himself a boyfriend that was fine (wasn’t fine at all) but the angel was Winchester family and Dean would be damned if that changed.

_Know that we still have each other; You can stand under my umbrella._

“It’s Rihanna,” Dean mumbled to himself. The original was that smoking hot woman singing about sharing umbrellas or whatever and Dean had never really understood that song since he had never really listened aside from the umbrella thing but this… this spoke to him.

They sang about shining together, again with the standing together. Something about there being no distance between their love that made Dean frown, and then again about sharing that damn umbrella. And Dean though that maybe it wouldn’t have to be more difficult than that. No more difficult than sharing and shining and _I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition_.

* * *

After almost a whole day of stakeout, the Djinn had shown itself and Castiel felt proud to say he’d taken it out mostly by himself. His grace was growing stronger by the day and he relished the feeling of it flowing through him. Despite being a war veteran, Castiel had never been much for fighting but he had felt satisfaction at the way the Djinn hesitated when Castiel’s eyes lit up with his grace.

Dean had spent most of the time complaining that Castiel should have waited for them but not even that hampered Castiel’s spirit because he’d seen Dean’s soul shine with worry and he recognized the hunter’s way of showing his concern.

Thinking back, Castiel felt his mood overall had improved since the day he kissed Stan and he wondered to himself if his mood had something to do with Stan’s influence or the self-loving Castiel had afforded himself afterwards. Perhaps a blend, he thought.

The fact that Dean had been standing outside his door and that that had ultimately been what had pushed him to completion was something Castiel chose not to think about. If Dean could compartmentalize, so could Castiel, and he didn’t think he had anything good to gain from overanalyzing what had happened. Dean had certainly not brought it up, perhaps because he was hoping (foolishly) that Castiel hadn’t noticed or perhaps because he was embarrassed. In any case, Castiel was feeling too good right now to think much about it.

For the moment, Castiel was waiting outside the police office in Danville, Virginia, while Sam was inside giving a severely simplified version of what had happened. They’d managed to save the girl that had just been abducted as they’d rolled into town but an elderly man (the one who’d been mentioned in the news article that had caught Sam’s attention) had sadly been beyond even Castiel’s powers to heal.

Dean, who’d had trouble finding a parking spot, had dropped off Castiel and Sam and rolled away to find one further away. Castiel didn’t know why but when Sam asked, he’d opted to wait outside for Dean. At the moment it seemed the prudent decision considering his people skills still were shaky, at best, but now as he saw Dean approaching along the sideway he started feeling oddly nervous.

It wasn’t often that Castiel was nervous. Anxious, yes, most prominently when the Winchesters or their friends got deadly wounded. And when he’d been human he’d experienced a lot of emotions but nervousness wasn’t one that had stood out. Now, he found himself fidgeting.

“Hey,” Dean grunted when he stopped beside Castiel. He threw a quick glance at the police building. “Sam still inside?”

It hit Castiel then, why he felt nervous. This was the first time they had been completely alone, him and Dean, since their argument. Since before… everything changed. It also occurred to him that that was why he had decided to wait for Dean rather than follow Sam.

“Yes,” he said, careful to keep his voice even. His grace swirled inside him as if preparing to protect him from something harmful, even though he knew there would be no protection against this kind of harm. “He said he won’t be long.”

Dean looked at him as he if understood that Castiel had waited for him specifically, rather than because Sam wouldn’t be long and there was no need for the two of them to barge in there.

“So,” Dean’s tongue poked out and he wet his lips as he looked away. Castiel found himself unable to look anywhere but Dean’s face. “You did good today.”

Castiel’s body flushed pleasantly. “Thank you. But I’ve been hunting for a while now, you don’t need to keep telling me when I do well.”

Dean looked back sharply. “Credit where credit is due, Cas,” he said, tone harsher than needed and Castiel got the weird feeling that he’d insulted Dean by implying with his words that the hunter didn’t think Castiel was good enough at their job.

“Thank you,” he repeated, tone softer, and couldn’t help it when his grace reached out to prod at Dean’s soul, almost as if poking at it to make the man forgive him.

And as always when something like that happened, Dean seemed to notice at least _something_ because he seemed unable to look away, caught like a prey in the predator’s claws. Castiel felt a sense of calm come over him, the familiarity of their staring soothing him.

And then it was broken when a drop of water landed unexpectedly on Dean’s cheek, making him jerk. Several more droplets followed and Dean turned a sullen face up at the gray sky.

“Great,” he sighed, holding out a hand as if to catch the falling rain.

“It’s okay,” Castiel quirked his lips at Dean’s glare. “Sam will be done soon.”

Dean grumbled something unintelligent and before Castiel could stop himself he’d tried to unfold his wings to hold over Dean’s head, to protect him. Of course, with most of his feathers gone, it would have done little, and the act of lifting them so high hurt immensely. His grace rushed to the pained joints as usual, but not before a grimace of pain flew over his face.

Dean of course picked up on it.

“What’s wrong? Wicked Angel of the West can’t take a little water?”

Metatron had done a lot of wrong but helping with Castiel’s lack of understanding for all pop culture references was one of the few good things, Castiel thought as Dean’s question made him smile.

“No, it’s my wings.”

They didn’t talk much about his wings, not more than questions about his inability to fly. Castiel got the impression that Dean and Sam felt so bad about it that they thought not bringing it up would make Castiel feel better. As if not drawing attention to the missing limb would make the loss less evident. Castiel for his part believed the opposite was true but was not one to needlessly burden others with his aches. Sam had asked once, a while ago, if Castiel’s wings were still hurting and he’d told the hunter that it was fine because it was. Manageable, at least.

“Do they hurt when it rains?” Dean asked, seriously, catching Castiel completely off guard.

“It’s fine,” he automatically answered Dean same as he’d done Sam.

“No it’s not,” Dean almost snapped. The rain was picking up intensity.

Castiel smiled again, touched by the sudden concern. “Dean, my grace will—”

“Wait here,” Dean interrupted and went over the street before Castiel could say anything more.

On the other side he disappeared into the library across the police station. He wasn’t in for long, soon returning with haste, an umbrella in his hand. Castiel blinked in confusion as Dean stopped by his side again, unfolding the umbrella.

“They usually have these in libraries,” he mumbled.

“Dean, did you steal this?”

“Shut up,” he held up the umbrella over them, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. “It’s called borrowing.”

The thought that they just as well could have gone inside the police department to wait in the main hall for Sam’s return flitted through Castiel’s mind but it got washed away by the gratitude he felt towards Dean.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, smiling softly as his grace trilled, warmth flooding him when he thought about Dean feeling bad about Castiel’s beaten wings hurting because of the rain, wanting to protect him.

Dean just grunted and shuffled closer, as if to escape the rain. There was very little room under the umbrella after all. The fact that Castiel was standing with his back to the rain, effectively still putting his wings in it was nothing either of them even thought about.

Castiel couldn’t help but study Dean’s face, the fine freckles over the bridge of his nose, the rosy tint to his cheeks that so easily could be attributed to the weather. Castiel’s fingers twitched with the need to touch Dean’s hand. Dean wasn’t meeting Castiel’s eyes, instead watching the rain silently, and Castiel reveled in the sudden serenity of the moment.

He was alerted to Sam’s presence too late for him not to be surprised by it and he jerked same as Dean when the younger Winchester joined them.

“Hey guys,” Sam grinned widely as Dean clutched his heart. Castiel thought this was why it was better for him to do stakeouts separate from Dean. Because he would get too distracted by the hunter and even his grace was lulled into a slumber, deep enough that someone could sneak up on him. “You got room for me under there?”

“No!” Dean barked and turned to stomp away, leaving both Sam and Castiel standing there in the rain, surprised.

* * *

The temperature was unexpectedly warm for early November, especially considering it wasn’t past sunrise yet. Sam relished it, though, enjoying having his morning jogs in only a wife beater and shorts.

Jogging was both great exercise and a perfect escape for Sam. Because out here, on the soft hiking trail, he was alone and everything was calm. He knew a lot of people preferred to jog with music but not Sam. No, he enjoyed listening to the sound of his breathing and his feet hitting the ground. Sometimes it helped him think and sometimes, like now, it helped him shut off his brain.

The thing was that Sam was annoyed.

Since Chuck and Amara had decided to leave Earth, things had slowed down for them. Sure, there were still monsters to hunt and hunters to train and Sam liked all of that, long over his past dreams of a “normal” life. No, he quite enjoyed his life right now. Being together with Dean and Cas, meeting up with other hunters, saving some people. Yes, Sam was content.

Except.

Except for the giant elephant in the room that was _Dean_ _and_ _Cas_. At first Sam had been watching them with a kind of giddiness, thinking that maybe now that they were no longer in immediate danger Cas would settle down. And maybe when Dean saw that Cas wasn’t leaving them, Dean would get courage enough to admit his feelings. Because come on, Sam had watched the two of them dance around each other for so long he almost got dizzy.

And for a while there it had worked out fine. And then it hadn’t.

Sam had been so annoyed with Dean for being so dense but yes, he’d also been sad for his brother because Dean hadn’t had an easy life and when was the last time Dean tried to grab something for himself? And Cas was an angel, after all, he might not even understand. Or maybe he did and he’d just grown sick of Dean’s bullshit. Sam didn’t know which was worse.

So yeah, that had been the deal for a while but as things escalated between Stan and Cas and, consequently, deescalated between Cas and Dean, Sam started getting tired instead. He had no trouble with Cas finding happiness somewhere else, as long as he didn’t disappear from their lives forever. Say he got together for real with Stan but still hunted with them, that sounded nice.

But at the same time he wanted his big brother to be happy and Sam was starting to think Dean would drink himself to death if Cas left them (left him) and Sam didn’t fancy picking up the pieces of their shattered life. Not if it shattered because of something stupid as this.

Sure, feelings were hard, Sam was no stranger to _that_, but lately he’d grown tired of Dean’s self-pity. They were both suffering but Dean was clearly a bigger asshole about it and it irked Sam. And in a way he was also annoyed with Cas, because he thought the angel _did_ know but that he just chose not to help Dean out. Then _again_, hadn’t Cas suffered enough? Wasn’t it Dean’s turn to take a stab at expressing feelings?

Truth be told, Sam didn’t know anymore who was more right or wrong and he was sick of being caught in the middle. Sick of seeing his most loved people hurting because they were too stupid to talk to each other.

Following their Djinn hunt, Sam had gotten a little optimistic, though. For some reason, Dean had been trying harder to make Cas happy and Cas had seemed amenable to his attempts. But either it was too little too late or the timing had simply been off last night.

The fight that had followed Cas’ rejection of Dean’s advances this time had been spectacular, in every bad sense of the word. Dean had wanted them to have a movie night, Cas (perhaps reminded of the last time they’d had that) had responded with “I have plans with Stan”, and Dean had all but blown up. Sure, Cas spent a lot of time with Stan nowadays, almost all the time they were home and not working on a hunt, and Sam missed his friend too. But then again, if he had been sincere when he’d said he might be able to develop romantic feelings for Stan, then who could blame him?

“You don’t even have anything in common with him,” Dean had sniped finally, normally handsome face ugly with derision. “You said his hobby is fucking _going to the gym_. That’s not a real hobby, come _on_.”

Cas had given Dean such a look then. As if the weariness of the world came over him, as if he was so fucking _done_ with Dean being such a child about this.

“Well,” he’d sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly as Dean huffed and puffed on the other side of the map table. “As much as I would love to stay here and have this conversation with you, I would much rather pay my boyfriend a visit and perform fellatio on him. Goodnight, Dean.”

He’d swept out of the room with that and Sam had thought _“there goes one badass motherfucker”_ without any remorse.

“He’s not doing that,” Dean had stated when the door had slammed shut. His eyes had been wild when Sam met them. “They’re not having sex, come on. They’re not even boyfriends, not _really_.”

Sam had been torn between screaming at Dean for not confessing his own feelings and hugging his big brother. There had been hurt on his face, marring it, mirroring what had been on Cas’ face, and Sam had felt useless.

“I think you’ll have to start considering the possibility,” Sam had mumbled slowly, watching Dean carefully for another explosion but nothing had come.

Dean’s face had become blank and shut off, and he’d walked off, eerily silent. Sam had found him hours later, head under the hood of one of the cars in the garage. He’d thought about saying something but had come up depressingly short. Instead he’d gone to bed and hadn’t even noticed when Cas came back.

Cas had been in the library when Sam went for his jog this morning, Dean nowhere to be seen, and Sam was just tired of it all.

His feet ate up the hiking trail like nothing else and suddenly he found himself on asphalt. He stopped dead, leaning on his knees and panting for a moment, looking out at the road ahead of him. It was one of the backroads down into Lebanon, he could see some houses just a little bit head. Straightening, he considered whether it would be quicker to follow this road until it connected to the one that ran back to the bunker or if he should head back along the hiking trail. He’d never really run this far before and either option made him sigh.

“Damn unrequited love,” he muttered under his breath. If Dean gave him shit about how long he’d been out today he would rip his brother a new one and go straight to Cas to confess what Dean couldn’t.

Going back would probably be nicer, he thought, considering he would be under the protection of the forest and away from potential cars. Not that there were a lot of them at this time of day but still, if he was distracted enough to miss his turn on the trail, he was definitely distracted enough to get hit by a car. And wouldn’t that be a way for a hunter to die? Car accident.

The thought reminded him of dad’s death, all those years ago, and he turned from the road without hesitation. Just as he started up the trail again, a person came down from it, from the other direction. Sam at first didn’t think much about it, other than being slightly surprised anyone else would want to get up so early for a jog, but then the person stopped dead in their tracks.

“Hey!” a melodic female voice exclaimed. “It’s pie guy.”

Sam could only stare for a moment because here she was again. The dainty woman who had given him her pie weeks ago. Her big hair was tied into a ponytail, making it fluff up behind her, and though she wasn’t wearing makeup this time her lips seemed rosy and inviting nonetheless. Her face was red from exertion and her eyes shone. They were big and bright, the brown of her iris almost black, and Sam swallowed slowly.

“Hey,” he mumbled, suddenly inexplicably shy.

This was the second time she’d come upon him by chance and when he was without any means to test her for supernatural qualities and it made him fidgety. Memories of Meg’s first meatsuit and the way she had tricked him when he was the most vulnerable came back to him and yet he couldn’t find it in himself to feel cautious around this woman. He was trying to, but he didn’t want to.

“So you like to jog too?” she asked, a little breathless, and raised her arms so she could brush her hands over her hair.

The movement wasn’t sexy in and of itself (though it did protrude her chest), but Sam found himself drawn to the way she moved. Sure, she was slim and small-breasted, but there was a sense of voluptuousness about her anyway and seeing her in leggings and a tight sports bra under a skimpy top did _things_ to Sam. Once again, he was acutely aware of how big he was in comparison to her.

“I do,” he almost croaked and had to clear his throat, smiling when she looked at him. “It helps me clear my mind.”

“Oh my God, same,” she laughed easily, the sound like bells tinkling. “I’m totally stressing over this work thing. You?”

“My brother,” Sam ventured another smile when she looked openly at him, all attention on him. “And his unrequited love.”

“Oh no,” her perfect brow drew tight in concern. “Is that why you bought him pie?”

She moved to stretch her arms and legs as she spoke, keeping in motion so she wouldn’t get cold (like Sam had gotten, the dumbass), and Sam couldn’t help how his eyes drew to the movement of her body like a total creeper.

The leggings hugged her legs like a second skin, showing off every muscle and crease. He realized with a flush that she was probably not wearing underwear, or _very_ tightfitting ones, because he couldn’t see any lines from it.

“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat again, this time unnecessarily.

“Did it help?”

“Not really,” God the way her sports bra fitted her made her breasts seem bigger and more defined and Sam didn’t know what was best. The first time he’d seen her there had only been the barest hint of breasts under her layers but now…

“Well,” she laughed again and Sam’s head honestly swam a little. “I hope it at least tasted good.”

“I wouldn’t know, he ate both slices.”

She made a surprised sound, a little “eep”, and then she burst out laughing. Much louder than before and much longer, and all Sam could do was stand there with a stupid smile on his face and watch her. God, she was beautiful.

“You’re funny, pie guy.”

Sam didn’t know about that, hoped that maybe she felt like that because she was a little interested in him as well.

“Actually it’s Sam,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She looked at it for a moment before not so much taking it as sliding her hand into his. “I’m Valerie, you can call me Val.”

Her grip was tight and when they shook once, she took a step closer as if drawn to him. It would be so easy, he thought, to pull her in the last bit and feel her body against his.

“Nice to meet you, again.”

She smiled coyly and looked up at him through her lashes, clearly completely aware what that look could do to a man. Sam almost shuddered.

“Same, and I would like to talk to you more to hear about your sad brother and… _you_. But I’ll soon be late for work,” she released his hand but didn’t step back. Her scent drifted over to him and he hoped she wasn’t wearing any perfume because if this was what she smelled like naturally then he was in heaven. “Do you maybe wanna switch numbers?”

Sam’s skin prickled with how much he wanted to. “I… I don’t have a pen. Or my phone.”

He felt like such a _loser_ when she giggled at him. “And I don’t have a good head for numbers. So how about I give you my number and you be good for me and remember it until you get home so you can text me?”

Sam felt a spike of _want_ go through him. He eyed her for a second, clearly noticing the fanny pack she had around her waist, turned around to rest at the small of her back. In there he bet she kept both her keys and her phone but he didn’t think twice about her proposal, understanding immediately that she wanted to know how willing he was to work for her.

“I’m good at remembering,” he said, dumbly, watching her features as she turned smug.

“I’ll hold you to that, Sam.”

That was probably the fastest Sam had ever run back to the bunker, Val’s number on a loop continuously in his head so he wouldn’t forget. Well inside the bunker he ignored both Dean and Cas, all thoughts of them and their infected relationship flown from his head as he hurried to his room and his waiting phone, a huge smile on his face when a quick search on the web showed that Val had given him her real number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seasons greetings and happy holidays! ( ˘ ³˘)♥


	5. Dinners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's holidays were awesome!   
Here's to making 2020 great together! ♥

“What’s wrong, honey? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Stan sighed and gave Val an apologetic smile. “I don’t like quinoa.”

Famously bad at cooking, Val had as usual bought takeout for them to eat when she’d invited him over to her house for dinner and Stan was enjoying spending time with her. 

Val rolled her eyes and topped off his glass of wine. “Yes you do, tell me the truth.”

Yeah okay, she was right. He didn’t dislike quinoa, though he wasn’t particularly fond of it either. But he’d started getting conscious of his weight and body since he and Cas started getting a little more serious. James had always commented on Stan’s big stature and to be honest, his ex-boyfriend was a huge reason Stan had started going to the gym more frequently.

Though to compare anything that Cas said or did to how James had acted would be an offense to Cas, and possibly every nice man out there. Maybe it was hindsight, but Stan was starting to believe James hadn’t been a very good boyfriend at all.

“Look, it’s just me being…” he gestured to himself. “Insecure.”

“You, the most handsome man I know, insecure?” she gasped with fake surprise. “Well I never.”

“Stop it,” he mumbled, smiling to himself. “Anyway, let’s talk about that later and not ruin dinner. Tell me something about you, we haven’t hung out much lately.”

“Yeah, because _someone’s_ been busy,” she said smugly, winking as she took a bite of her chicken tender.

Stan squirmed in his seat, thinking about Cas. The man was yet again away at a job, his occupation the only thing they hadn’t really discussed. Stan had entertained the idea that Cas was in fact a secret agent or maybe something dangerous like an assassin and he’d found the thought surprisingly arousing. But he was nonetheless respecting Cas’ wishes and not pressing for information. The man was anyhow very nice about keeping in touch via texts when he was away.

“Well I’m glad you called me tonight.”

“Me too,” she said warmly, hand on his arm squeezing him lightly. “And hey, speaking of delicious men in our lives, I met someone too.”

“You did?” he said, genuinely happy.

Over the years, Val had met a number of men and had had a few serious relationships but nothing that stuck. Some men were actually intimidated by Stan’s constant presence in her life, which was ridiculous considering how _incredibly_ gay Stan was. One man, Val had dumped because he’d been disgusted by homosexuals. Stan had honestly never seen Val so angry.

Mostly Stan thought that the men Val fell for simply couldn’t keep up with her vibrancy and he thought it was their loss.

“Yeah,” she grinned widely. “Well, I suppose _met_ was a little too much. We’ve bumped into each other two times on coincidence and talked about ten minutes in total but _damn_, Stan, I just wanna climb him like a tree.”

The image made Stan laugh and he reached for his glass, taking a healthy sip of his wine. “So he’s good-looking?”

“The best,” she said dreamily, chin in hand as she stared out into space. “So rugged and manly but also soft, like a giant teddy bear. Kind of like you,” she said cheekily and Stan shook his head, still smiling. “Tall too, could give you a run for your money. Guess I have a type, huh?”

“He seems perfect,” Stan grinned, trying not to think about teeny tiny Val with a guy Stan’s own size. The image was too hilarious to him, although he could see the appeal. Could, in fact, completely relate if this mystery man’s strength was what drew Val’s attention…

“Yeah. Anyway, I gave him my number and I thought he was gonna play the game, you know?” she danced a little in her seat, clearly pleased. “But he didn’t.”

“No waiting three days?”

“Nope, texted me back almost immediately. Almost as if he did it as soon as he got home. And just a shy little hello too, it was adorable.”

Stan grinned widely, almost pitying the poor fella, now caught in Val’s sights. She was like a lioness and he hoped the guy was prepared for the storm that was coming his way.

“So you’re meeting up?”

“Not yet,” Val said, turning more serious. “I wanna get to know him a little first. I think we’ll keep texting for a while and then we’ll see.”

Val had a system for picking her men, for the occasions where she could use it. In essence, there were a few key topics that she absolutely felt they had to agree on (like LGBTQ) and he supposed using texting as a way to find out would be an easy way to do it.

“Well, I’m happy for you.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” she said, smiling widely, tucking a stray lock of her fluffy hair behind an ear. “Things seem to be going well with Cas?”

“Yeah,” Stan looked down at his plate for a moment, thoughtful. “He asked me if I wanted to visit his home, have dinner there.”

“That’s great, honey!” she exclaimed but when he didn’t immediately agree she turned serious again. “Or not? I knew something was wrong. Tell me, Stannie.”

“Well I guess it’s two things,” he said, tone almost apologizing. “First I’m insecure of what I actually want with Cas. Is he really not just a rebound and if he is, should I be leading him on? I’m sexually attracted to him and I feel like I could grow to love him, but can I fall _in love_? I dunno,” he drew a big breath when he saw her brow pull tight in concern. “And then there’s this whole thing with him and that Dean. What if I decide to give it my all with Cas and Dean decides to man up and Cas chooses him?”

“Those are heavy concerns,” Val mumbled, putting down her knife and fork to put her hands on his arm.

“Yeah I know. And I guess…” he sighed deeply. “And it concerns me that he’s living with Dean.”

That made Val straighten up. “What?”

“Yeah,” Stan nodded slowly. “Apparently Dean and his little brother are Cas’ colleagues, and the three of them share a… house? I don’t know exactly how they live but he said the three of them live together and that if I came for dinner it would be to introduce me to them.”

“That sounds…”

Stan rubbed his face with his hands, tired. “Weird, right? Or I mean, I kinda get it in this economy, but where does that leave me? He’s in love with Dean _and_ living with him, what chance do I have?”

Val hummed a little in thought. “Is he, though?” she smiled a little when he looked at her. “I mean, you told me he said he wanted to try and get over Dean, and he’s been showing quite an interest in you. So maybe it’s working for him, what you two have? And there has to be something between them that’s stopping them. Maybe Dean’s not even gay? Then it really doesn’t matter if they live together, right?”

“I guess,” Stan said, a little glumly. “I was just thinking, how easy is it to get over someone if you’re constantly in their company?”

“Well, how long can you be in love without getting something back before your heart tires?” she asked, tone brisk. “I get why you’re concerned but think about it like this; you’re not even sure your feelings for Cas are _that_ kind of love so him choosing Dean might not even hurt that much in the end. _If_ it even happens. I’d say just have fun with him for now.”

“You mentioned something like this before,” he mumbled with a small smile.

“Yes I did,” she smiled wider, encouraging his amusement. “And I also mentioned that you should let off some steam by fucking him, how’s that going?”

That made Stan laugh out loud. Val grinned to herself and went back to eating her cooling dinner.

“We kissed at the club,” he said almost proudly.

“I know, Cas told me when I asked what happened while you were barfing,” she was still grinning. God how Stan loved to see her like that. “I said ‘what happened?’ and he deadpanned ‘I kissed Stan and then he got sick’, I laughed so hard I thought I would pee my pants.”

Stan grinned now too. “Well I didn’t tell you what happened when he came to visit me the next day. He wanted to check on me because I got sick and we talked some and then he kissed the living daylights out of me.”

“Oh my God, _Stan_,” she exclaimed, slapping him lightly on his shoulder. “You haven’t told me _anything_.”

Well, Stan wasn’t usually someone who liked to kiss and tell and she knew that, but he enjoyed sharing _some_ parts.

“He totally lifted me up on the kitchen island and touched me so skillfully I was about to let him fuck me right there.”

“Shut up,” Val giggled, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she tried to keep her food inside while laughing. “He didn’t lift _you_.”

“He did!” he countered, grin wide. “He’s freaky strong.”

“Shit,” she said, shaking her head while still grinning and Stan could tell she didn’t completely believe him but that was okay. Maybe next time Cas could lift her and she would know what he meant. The man would probably only need to use his pinky to do it too. Yeah, it was safe to say Stan had used that moment while masturbating quite a few times by now. “So _did_ you fuck?”

“No,” Stan said, tone warm when he remembers Cas’ struggle. That, too, had featured in some masturbation fantasies. “I got a little overwhelmed and asked that we stop.”

“And he did?”

“Immediately.”

Val got a very pleased look on her face, taking a sip of her wine. “Good man.”

“Yeah, I fell a little harder for him in that moment.”

“But I mean, haven’t you done _anything_ since then? You’ve been meeting up a lot of times, right?”

Stan nodded, shuffling his quinoa around on his plate for a moment. “I suppose that’s what’s also keeping me back. Because we’re meeting up and there’s clearly some kind of tension between us but he hasn’t really made any new advances and neither have I. Maybe he’s just looking for a friend after all, and maybe so am I?”

Val nodded too. “I think what you have works for you in this moment and maybe you don’t have to push yourself to figure out what you want coming out of it. Maybe you can just relax with him and let what happens, happen?”

“That’s actually really good advice.”

“I know,” she said, tone smug. “James hurt you, _a lot_, so I get that you’re cautious but Cas seems adorable for real Stan, you should treasure every moment with him and I hope he does the same.”

Stan couldn’t help but feel a kind of peace come over him. Of course he’d thought along the same lines as Val but hearing her, his best and most treasured friend, tell him the same felt very liberating. Maybe Cas was just a rebound, or maybe Cas would get together with Dean, in any case Stan was having fun with him and he would keep having fun until either of them (or both) said no more.

“You always know just what to say to make me feel better,” Stan said, grinning, and lifted his half-full glass of wine. “Here’s to living life one moment at a time and without worries.”

“Hakuna Matata,” Val exclaimed excitedly, clinking her glass against his and making him laugh out loud, carefree and happy.

* * *

Their Rugaru hunt had been pretty run-of-the-mill in the sense that Cas got cut off from the brothers and Dean had taken one hell of a beating before Sam managed to burn the motherfucker to death. All in all, Dean had thought things had gone well, although Cas’ dissatisfied frown as he healed Dean told another story.

“I don’t like you getting hurt,” he’d murmured and fuck everything but Dean had totally leaned into Cas’ touch, reveling in the feeling of Cas’ grace rushing through him. 

“Sorry,” Dean had mumbled, feeling strangely humbled. 

Cas had looked at him then, clearly surprised by Dean’s suddenly docile attitude. “That’s okay, I’m here.”

Only that, so little, had made Dean feel all warm inside and he’d thought _“I’m ridiculous”_, all of this was so ridiculous. 

Now, two days later, Dean was of course fully healed but he was feeling a little under the weather anyway. Not sick, but… well, something. He hadn’t been on top of his game at all lately and it was just getting worse. Of course he knew why but knowing didn’t mean shit wasn’t hard to deal with. Just the thought of Cas _actually_ being in a relationship with Stan, _kissing_ him, was…

Almost immediately when they got back, Sam had gotten a call from Donna about what she and Jody thought was a Shapeshifter and Dean had sent his little brother alone with Cas. 

“Just be back by Friday,” he’d said, forcing himself to sound cheery. “Wouldn’t want to have to cancel on our dinner guest,” Dean still couldn’t _believe _he’d let Sam talk him into agreeing to that, no matter how happy it made Cas...

But fuck, Dean had to start making up for all his shit (and their latest fight) _somehow_, hadn’t he? Never mind how much it hurt him to invite Stan into their home.

Cas had just rolled his eyes at Dean’s fake campy attitude but judging by Sam’s concerned brow, Dean was in for a talking to when Sam and the angel got back. For now he was relieved to be alone, though.

He took a nap, strategically placed during the time the other two left the bunker, and when he woke up he had such a hankering for beer and Cheetos that he knew he would drive to Lebanon if they were out. But he didn’t get far enough to check, because on his way to the kitchen he heard a sound coming from the library and all his honed hunter instincts kicked into gear.

He knew they shouldn’t have settled down just because the last world ending threat was over. He _knew_ they would grow soft, and now something had snuck into the bunker and they would all be dead if he didn’t manage to kill it first and he _would_. He would fucking bash its skull in for threatening his family, would put his thumbs in its eyes and press until there was nothing but mush left and then—

That was Cas.

The angel looked up from Dean’s laptop, the screen’s glow exaggerating the lines on his face, making them sharper and more alluring. 

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean said, lowering the machete he’d pulled from one of their secret stashes on the way over to the library. “I thought you and Sam were going to South Dakota?”

“Sam is,” Cas stated just as Dean noticed the music playing from the laptop’s scratchy speakers. That song… “But he told me I could sit this one out, if I wanted to.”

“You…” it was the _same_ song. That… that stand by you song. With the woman. From the radio. “He told you to babysit me.”

Cas shrugged and looked down at the laptop again. “I can leave if you want.”

_“To be with Stan,”_ Dean thought, miserably. Wasn’t it enough that Stan was coming here for dinner? Did he have to hog all of Cas’ time? “What the hell are you looking at?”

“I believe it’s called a music video,” Cas looked up again, lips quirked in that smile of his. Dean’s knees felt weak. “I heard this song on the radio the other day and I went to search for it.”

“Yeah?”

Cas’ eyes captured Dean’s like always, pulling him in, making him tremble as the song’s crescendo blared out of the speakers. _Even if we can't find heaven, I'm gonna stand by you._

“I like this song,” Cas deadpanned then and Dean felt as if he was sucker punched.

_“Fuck me,”_ he thought frantically. _“I want him so bad. No fucking lies or denial or _anything_. I want to be with Cas. I want him to hold me.”_

The pain of realizing this too late, now when Cas already had a loving boyfriend, was so immense it threatened to choke him. 

“R-really?” he almost croaked and went to sit in a chair opposite Cas, body shaking all over.

“I do,” Cas sounded pleased. “Her voice is extraordinary and I like the message.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I suppose it’s not to your liking, seeing as it’s a little—Dean is something wrong?”

When Dean looked up he saw that Cas was half-way out of his chair and he panicked even more. If Cas put his beautiful hands on him now, if he let his grace run through Dean’s aching body, he would _know _and he would _see_ and Dean couldn’t deal with that right now. 

“I’m fine,” he shot to his feet so fast he got dizzy. “Happy you’re home with me, great to get some quality time in,” what the hell was he saying? “Unless you’d rather spend time with Stan, that is? Maybe plan for that dinner of ours? That’s fine too, totally fine.”

Dean felt a little winded.

“No,” Cas said slowly, head tilted to the side. “I think I would much rather stay in tonight.”

Because he was concerned for Dean? Because Sam was concerned and had ordered Cas and Cas was still too much of a good soldier to say no? Dean didn’t know which one it was and frankly he didn’t need to know. He needed _Cas_ and was happy to have any kind of quality time with him. Was, in fact, happy that they were at all speaking properly with each other without it ending in a huge argument. 

Their last one (born from Dean’s jealousy clashing with Cas’ inability to understand why Dean was acting the way he was) had been brutal and Dean had felt so bad he had barely slept for a long while. Cas seemed to have gotten over some of it, though, if not all. And Dean for his part was so done with fighting he was on the verge of just apologizing and explaining everything to Cas.

But it would be too little, too late, Dean was realizing that in this moment. Cas would still be his friend but it had taken Dean too long to make up his mind and Cas had moved on. Someone called fucking _Stan_ had snatched Dean’s angel away and he had no one to blame but himself. 

“Then how about we watch a movie?” Dean heard himself say, his voice sounding as if he was speaking through glass. “I was thinking about watching _Antman_ and stuffing myself on Cheetos.”

Cas’ little quirk came back and Dean felt an arrow of affection go through him. “That sounds very nice.”

Fuck Dean’s stupid fucking heart for fluttering. 

Turned out that they had a veritable _stack_ of Cheetos, and beer enough to feed a whole army. Dean was starting to suspect Sam had stockpiled in preparation for leaving Dean alone but when would he have had time to do that? How long had Dean’s nap even been?

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he just rejoiced over the amount of snacks and beverages and felt childishly happy when Cas grinned at him. 

“But if the tank on the keychain is an _actual_ tank, shouldn’t it weigh 60 tons even when shrunken?”

Cas’ confused frown was adorable. What was even more adorable was that he’d actually taken off both his coat _and_ suit jacket to sit down on the couch in their man-cave. The sight of that had been so spectacular that Dean had managed to successfully suppress any lingering nervousness that had come over him when the two of them were finally alone in this room again.

Memories of Dean’s giant fuckup had rushed back at him and though he was still a little uncertain why Cas had gotten _so_ mad (almost as if he’d taken a personal offence), Dean was by now very clear on the fact that he had said something incredibly insensitive. Hell, if Charlie had still been alive she would probably had punched him, and with reason too. 

But anyway, his nervous jitters had been a bit calmed by his long-necked friend Margiekugel and then disappeared completely once Cas had started undressing. It’d looked so casual too and Dean couldn’t help but think that Cas had “practiced” that at Stan’s. The human surely got confused that Cas wore the same clothes all the time and in an effort to fit in with his boyfriend, Cas had probably started taking off at least his coat when they were inside. 

Dean didn’t think too much about it (since it made him feel like his guts were removed) but thought it was a little sad that Cas had to pretend to be something he wasn’t for Stan’s benefit. And the human probably didn’t even know the effort Cas was going to either. Such a waste.

“It’s explained in the comics,” Dean answered after too long just staring at the side of Cas’ face. “In the comics some of his mass is actually also transported to another dimension,” he frowned, hearing himself and his slurred words. “No, wait… ‘some of his mass is _also_ actually transported’, yeah. Or wait…”

When he looked back at Cas he saw the angel smiling at him. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Dean snorted, chugging some more beer for good measure. “‘M just enjoying this.”

“Me too,” Cas said in a low tone and then did the stupidest motherfucking thing he could do. 

He put his fingers to his mouth and _licked off Cheeto dust_. One. Finger. At. A. Time, before reaching for a napkin.

Dean swallowed with a click and drained the last of his beer bottle too fast. “Shit,” he muttered when he sat up to put the bottle on the table, the world spinning for a moment. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Also, you haven’t eaten anything nutritious today,” Cas stated. Dean flopped back with a groan. “You need to take care of yourself.”

The light from the TV flicked over them, elongating the shadows of the otherwise dark room. Dean watched for a moment as generic action scene played out on screen. 

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled after a while, feeling more than seeing how Cas turned to him. Without thinking about it, perhaps because he was drunk or perhaps simply because he was tired beyond belief, he slid down on the couch so that his head came to rest on Cas’ shoulder. “I want _you _to take care of me.”

The words were low and muted, feeling forbidden in a way, but Dean didn’t feel any remorse in saying it out loud. Cas had _said_ he was there for Dean (and Sam) and Dean wanted that to continue, even if… even if Cas got a boyfriend and… left…

He drew a hiccupping breath, uncertain what he was feeling exactly in this moment. Empty seemed to mostly suffice to describe it. Until Cas put his hand on Dean’s arm, palm so hot against Dean’s skin that Dean’s spine tingled.

“I will,” he said, voice low and rumbly, face turned so that he could have kissed Dean on his forehead if he wanted to. “I’m here.”

Just like what he’d said after healing Dean two days ago. _I’m here_, even as he was drifting further away. Dean closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him, praying that he wouldn’t remember this in the morning. 

* * *

To say that Stan was nervous about this dinner was an understatement. He’d changed his shirt at least five times, feeling like the biggest cliché in the world when he freaked out about not being able to flatten down his hair. He’d also spent a good chunk of time trying to research how to get to the location Cas had given him directions to. Google Maps yielded nothing but an old seemingly abandoned power plant and a river but there was also a road where Cas had said a road would be and Stan had eventually decided to man up and just drive there. 

He brought a bottle of Merlot even though he didn’t know what they were eating or if the other two men drank at all. 

Val thought this all sounded a bit odd, the three of them living together could definitely be blamed on the lack of housing around here but why would the two brothers be there at the dinner? Stan hadn’t had any good answers (besides “maybe Cas is nervous to have me over on his own”, which hadn’t gone over well) but then it had hit him. 

Cas didn’t consider these brothers only his friends and colleagues; they were his family. And that was when Stan’s anxiety had hit hard. 

But now he was here and the time for nervous breakdowns were over. To be honest, as soon as he’d turned onto the small road his nerves about meeting Cas’ potential love interest and family evaporated as nerves about where the hell he was going took over. 

Stan had been living in Lebanon for a while and he’d never known there were parts like this so close to town. Well, now that he thought about it, “close” was relative. By car it certainly was, but on foot, like Cas had claimed he’d been on a number of occasions, it was certainly not close. Stan found himself with a limp jaw as he came around a bend and the power plant’s walls suddenly loomed over him. They were a dirty dark grey that clashed with the forest around it and they were so tall he almost felt as if they would devour the sky. 

No one could live here, right? For as long as Stan had lived in Lebanon he’d never heard anyone speak of any kind of industrial facility so he assumed it had been long abandoned. Perhaps during the 70’s recession when a lot of smaller facilities like this had to close down. 

Driving up to it he did notice that an area to the side of it seemed to have been made for parking, with the ground being paved and the road ending in a clear stop. The plant itself was built on a slope with a river just on the other side of the road Stan had come up on and he assumed it was what had been used to power it when it was still in operation. 

Driving up to the short wall that marked the road’s end, he noticed a small door in the side of the slope to his right, that may or may not connect to the power plant’s lower levels, or even basement. For a moment he got a surreal feeling that Cas had lured him out here to kill him, it did seem like an awfully good place to dispose of a body. And then, immediately after that gruesome thought, his old fantasies of Cas as an assassin came flooding back. What a great place to hide your… _assassination inclinations_, right?

“I’m insane,” he mumbled, glancing at the door with his car still running, his mind alternating between figuring out how to turn around in the small space and thinking about actually knocking on the unassuming door. 

It took him a minute or two, gathering himself, and then he turned off the ignition. The silence seemed to rush up on him, so fast he almost jerked in his seat, and suddenly (irrationally) he wished Val was where. Val would see this as a fun adventure, and if it turned out that Cas was actually pranking him and would be laughing at him later it wouldn’t be half as bad if Val was the one being laughed at too. 

“Cas isn’t like that,” he reminded himself. 

Cas was kind and straightforward, and had seemed almost nervous to ask Stan over for dinner, as if a rejection would hurt him. And Stan had been happy to come and he wouldn’t let some looming goddamn _shut down_ power plant scare him away. 

“Those are awfully big walls though,” he mumbled as he’d gotten his wine and was standing outside his car, looking up at the gray monstrosity. 

He shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath (filled with the scent of water and forest) and drawing strength from his tattoo. Whatever happened, he would always have that protecting his back, reminding him to never look back; always walk forward with his head held high. 

There was a small set of stairs leading down to the door, slippery with mud from the slope, but Stan’s confidence was boosted when he saw footprints in the mud. The door itself was made of metal rather than wood and reminded Stan of bomb shelter doors. It made a loud booming sound when he knocked on it and he winced, feeling stupid beyond belief. 

There was a short silence (a crow flew above and let out a lonely sound) and then Stan heard what he assumed was footsteps. Heavy and resounding as if someone was walking on metal and he thought that this was now or never because _someone_ was definitely coming to open the door. 

It swung open on _creaky_ hinges, to reveal a tall man. 

“Oh hi, you must be Stan!” he exclaimed, voice pleasant and smile wide. 

_“Is this him?”_ Stan thought before he could stop himself, knowing he shouldn’t think too much about Cas and Dean but apparently unable to stop himself. _“He sure is handsome enough.”_

Brown (chestnut) hair framed a manly face with a square jaw and kind eyes met Stan’s head on, expression open and welcoming. Well, at least Stan knew he was in the right place, thank God.

“Hi, yeah,” Stan smiled back and offered up his hand, the man shaking it with enthusiasm. “I’m Stan.”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the man said and stepped back to invite Stan inside. “Come in, watch your step.”

“Thank you,” Stan mumbled, feeling very _aware_ of the man as he stayed just inside the door, making sure he closed and locked properly after Stan. 

The man’s shoulders were broad and though he wasn’t as muscular as Stan himself, he looked more than capable. He wore a simple flannel shirt over a pair of jeans and suddenly Stan wondered if he himself was overdressed in his slacks and button down. 

The man turned around, a new smile on his face when he noticed that Stan had stopped just behind him. He tilted his head as if to invite Stan further but then walked ahead of him anyway and Stan was honestly relieved because this wasn’t a normal house, he already knew as much. 

Directly connecting the door was a small landing (with a table and two chairs, a game of chess in session on the table), framed by a metal railing like none Stan had ever seen, and as soon as he stepped out on that landing, following the man, the rest of the room opened up in front of him. 

It was _huge_, cave-like, and so bizarre. Lining the walls were old machines, from at least the WWII era (he thought he spotted a ham radio but wasn't sure). It was like things definitely taken from a bomb shelter and Stan felt his jaw drop for the second time in less than an hour. 

The room itself was rounded, framing an enormous table which was lit from beneath somehow, showing a map of the United States. Some cities had been highlighted but a quick scan revealed no obvious connection between them. More impressive still, beyond the table and the first room was another, filled with tables and bookcases from what Stan could see from this angle. 

The whole place had a kind of military bunker feeling to it but it was lit with a warm yellow glow from several lamps and though the walls and floor seemed to be mostly made out of concrete, the interior didn’t feel chilly at all. 

Stan was just about to make a noise of surprise and awe when he spotted Cas, standing in a doorway that obviously led deeper into the building. Beside him was another man, standing close and talking to Cas. He was handsome too, almost unfairly so, with short hair and full lips.

_“That’s him,”_ Stan thought immediately, a sort of wistful peace settling within him. _“That’s Cas’ Dean.”_

He didn’t know how he knew, only that he did. The way the two of them were standing, the way they moved into each other without touching, yes Stan had no doubt that there was something between the two men, beyond friendship. The question was just how deep it went, and how aware they were of it themselves.

He hurried to catch up to the other man (who he now assumed was Dean’s brother) when the sound of the man descending a staircase drew both Dean and Cas’ attention. The moment Cas spotted Stan he smiled and left Dean’s side and Stan felt perverse satisfaction when he saw Dean’s abandoned look.

He shook it off fast enough, though, and then turned a glare up at Stan, almost as if he knew what Stan had been feeling. And judging by that look, Dean knew something alright. Knew that Cas was drifting away from him and towards Stan and Stan had to wonder if Dean was scared about losing his friend or if he was in fact interested in Cas as well. He supposed the evening would tell.

“Stan,” Cas murmured when Stan joined the rest of them on the floor by the lit table. “Did you have trouble finding your way here?”

“No,” Stan said with a smile, hand going out to touch Cas’ arm gently. “Your directions were very good. But I have to admit that I hesitated for a moment when I got here.”

Dean snorted in the background but Cas obstructed the view, his little smile pulling Stan’s attention. 

“It’s not a common living area, I know,” he said, not apologetically but simply as if he was stating a fact. Cas talked in a weird way sometimes and Stan liked that about him.

“Not really, no,” he craned his head to look up at the tall ceiling, so high they had to be inside the power plant now because they definitely hadn’t walked that far down. “What is this place?”

“It’s an old war bunker,” the tall man answered, his tone eager as if he was pleased someone wanted to know. To his right, Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s been in our family for generations.”

“Oh,” Stan said, eyebrows high. “That’s certainly unique.”

“Yeah, yeah, people make houses out of everything these days,” Dean snorted, walking straight up Stan, taking command. “Anyway, I’m Dean and this is my brother Sam. We’re Cas’ family.”

Sam made an exasperated face and then offered up his hand for Stan to shake.

“I’m Stan, Cas’ boyfriend,” Stan said with a wolfish grin, enjoying watching Dean’s face for emotions. 

Dean squeezed his hand harder than necessary for a normal handshake but Stan didn’t let it show on his face, completely aware of what the man was doing. _Clearly_, Dean was a man who was used to be in charge and it didn’t matter if Dean’s feelings for Cas were romantic or not, he obviously didn’t like Stan butting in and destroying their platonic throuple. 

“Welcome,” Dean said, tone suggesting he had been told to play nice. “I’m making steak, I hope you know your way around meat.”

“Oh trust me, I have handled my fair share of meat before.”

Something ticked at Dean’s temple and they weren’t shaking hands anymore, merely holding hands and staring at each other, the air thick with tension. God but Stan felt alive. The room was static with electricity and Dean’s eyes seemed to vibrate with barely contained emotions. 

“Yeah okay,” Sam interrupted with a sigh, grabbing Dean’s upper arm and hauling him towards the doorway. “Posturing over, we have a steak to check on. Cas, why don’t you show Stan around?”

The moment they were alone, Stan turned to Cas with a huge grin, only to find him looking like a drowned kitten, eyes soft and mouth slanted, and he instantly regretted calling himself Cas’ boyfriend before clearing that with the man first. Hell, even if he’d mostly done it to take a stab at Dean (though he felt giddy at calling himself Cas’) it wasn’t really okay for him to jump ahead like that.

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbled. “Dean is usually much more welcoming.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Stan said gently, happy to find that Cas didn’t seem upset about the boyfriend thing. He stepped in to give Cas a quick kiss just because. They hadn’t really done much more than some kissing and light petting since the day in his kitchen, but Stan loved how casual they were getting about it. “I understand that he feels threatened. You’re his best friend, right?”

Cas sighed. “If Val started seeing someone else, would you react like Dean does?”

“Well, no…” but Stan wasn’t in love with Val, seeing what he had seen in just these few moments he was starting to understand what was going on here though.

“The truth is that our relationship, the three of us, it’s terribly codependent.”

“Cas,” Stan said softly, touching the man’s arm to get his attention. “It’s okay, I understand. Do you perhaps want me to leave for tonight?”

“No,” Cas stated, tone so certain it made Stan smile because yeah, he understood that there was more to this than just Cas’ unrequited love, but he would have been really sad to be turned away right now. “What I want is for Dean to behave.”

A small tremor went through Stan. The way Cas talked as if Dean was a misbehaving child when he was in reality a grown, very much manly man, pulled Stan back to his brief (and pleasurable) forage into BDSM. Cas had just the right kind of arch to his eyebrow (and voice) for it. 

“And I’m sure he will,” Stan smiled when Cas turned dubious eyes on him. “Things are just new and scary for him. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

Cas opened his mouth as if to object, or ask what Stan meant, like he did sometimes. It was another of his quirks and thought it had thrown Stan for a loop the first time it had happened he enjoyed it now. But Cas didn’t say anything about dogs, instead he took the wine bottle from Stan’s hand and looked down at it.

“You brought this for tonight?”

“Yes,” Stan said, feeling warm inside when he saw Cas studying the label intensely. “I didn’t know what we were eating but I figured that you could always save it for later if we don’t end up drinking it tonight.”

“I’m sure it will go well with the dinner Dean prepared,” Cas stated with the tone of someone who doesn’t know the first thing about wine. 

“Dean made dinner himself?” Stan asked just as Cas took his right hand. The muscles in it, sore from Dean’s hard grip, eased immediately and Stan thought it was soothing how healing Cas’ touches always seemed to be. 

“Dean is very particular about letting people help in the kitchen,” Cas answered fondly. “But don’t worry, he’s quite the cook when he wants to be.”

And a night when his best friend’s potential new boyfriend, and subsequently his rival, shows up for dinner would be an excellent time to brandish his culinary skills, Stan suspected. Suddenly he was quite looking forward to the actual food. 

“Then we should set the table, to help.”

Cas nodded and tugged Stan towards the doorway where the brothers had disappeared. 

“I’ll give you the tour of the bunker later.”

They entered a narrow hallway, this one lit with the same kind of wall lamps as the bigger room. The walls were grey, tiled up to about shoulder height for Stan, and lined with closed doors. Each door was numbered, a symbol of an odd six pointed star in a circle over the numbers. Stan decided with a healthy amount of optimism that he wouldn’t freak out about any of this later in the safety of his own home.

“There’s _more_?”

Cas quirked his lips. “Aside from the kitchen? Yes, there’s a huge garage with vintage cars, a communal bath, and of course, our bedrooms.”

He gestured to the closed doors and the way he had left the mention of bedrooms for last put quite some weight on the word, which made Stan grin widely.

“Then I would love a tour after dinner.”

“Oh but before that,” Cas murmured, almost to himself, and walked straight past the so far only open door (number 23), which opened up to a fully equipped kitchen. 

It looked almost industrial, from what little Stan manage to see, and it smelled heavenly. Sam and Dean were both there, Dean by the stove and Sam standing on the other side of a small island, nursing a beer. Beer, of course. That was what Cas usually drank when he was at Stan’s and here Stan was, stupidly bringing _wine_ to dinner with what he had to assume were two straight men. Good job, Stan...

“This,” Cas stated after having turned a corner. “Is the restrooms,” he pushed open a door to reveal a room with several toilet booths and urinals. “I gather it’s important to always know the location of the nearest toilet, in case of a pressing need.”

Stan almost blushed. “Oh. Uh, thank you Cas,” he smiled when Cas gave him a happy look. “I’m sorry I didn’t do the same to you when you first came to visit my house?”

“That’s okay,” Cas stated in that tone of voice that Stan had come to recognize as the one he used when his answers brokered no arguments. 

With that, Cas turned them back and to the kitchen, to get plates and cutlery for them. 

“No, not there, Cas,” Dean said when Cas was putting everything on the small table in the kitchen. “The map table.”

Stan smiled gratefully when Sam quietly offered him a beer. The smell in the small kitchen was something else, Dean had clearly pulled out no stops when it came to the food. Sizzling steak, golden taters, homemade jalapeno poppers, yeah Stan knew he was in for a treat tonight. 

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, small frown on his face. “We could sit in the library?”

“Cas,” Dean sighed, attention on the gravy he was stirring. “I ain’t cooking up a feast if we’re not eating at the most festive table we have.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Cas mumbled and shuffled out of the kitchen with a stack of plates.

Sam shook his head when Stan aimed to help by carrying the glasses. “We don’t get many guests, please relax.”

“You, on the other hand, with your lumberjack arms could do me some good and open the wine,” Dean countered, making Sam sigh and walk out of the kitchen, glasses and wine opener in hand. 

Stan found himself fascinated with looking at Dean moving around the kitchen for a while. There was something about the man, something that told Stan that Dean was on guard for some kind of attack, but trying his best to conceal his unease.

_“It’s me,”_ Stan thought contemplatively. _“I make him uneasy. Because I’m gay?”_

He watched Dean juggle three things at the same time, looking as if he should burn himself but managing without incident. No, not because Stan was gay, but perhaps because of what Stan’s presence indicated. Change, in its nature, was always scary after all. 

Stan took a sip just as Cas rejoined them in the kitchen. He looked between the two of them, Dean not even sparing him a glance, and then squinted at Dean, walking right up to him and putting his hand on Dean’s upper arm, squeezing once. Dean looked up, eyes locking with Cas’ and though no words were uttered, it was still clear to Stan that the two men understood each other perfectly well.

Dean’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and then he turned to Stan.

“So, Stan,” he said, tone forcefully cheerful. Cas took over and stirred the gravy the second Dean let go. “Cas told me your name’s _Andersen_, what’s up with that? You Scandinavian?”

Stan just blinked for a second, so surprised in the change in demeanor. Behind Dean’s back, Cas’ shoulders slumped a little and Stan’s stomach flipped when he realized Cas had been begging Dean to play nice with his friend. 

Begging, without saying a word.

“Actually no, but I do get that a lot with my hair and eye color,” he answered, tone casual but he was watching Dean and Cas intently now. 

“I bet and I mean, you’re hot enough to be mistaken for a Swedish male model, right? Take it as a compliment,” he winked and if Stan hadn’t just seen what had passed between Cas and Dean a few moments ago he would have been completely fooled by Dean’s sudden flirty charm. 

_“He’s good,”_ Stan thought with sudden admiration. To be able to compartmentalize like that, Dean had to have had years of experience.

“Right back atcha’,” he said, unable not to rise to the challenge.

Dean leaned on the island where Stan was standing, beer still in hand. “Well, I—”

“Sam,” Cas said gratefully (tone almost pleading) when the other brother entered the kitchen. 

Sam took in the scene in a millisecond and then gave Stan the biggest smile he’d ever seen. “So Stan, I hear you’re working as a preschool teacher, that must be interesting?”

What was more interesting to Stan was the dynamic of this small family but he allowed the change in topic and ended up talking quite a lot with Sam about his work during the evening. 

All in all, Stan ended up having a spectacular time, intrigued with the bunker, the Winchesters, and (most notably) Dean and Cas and their dance. It took little to no time for Stan to figure out that whatever bond Dean and Cas had it went beyond simple friendship; that Dean was, in fact, in love with Cas. And he thought, a little melancholy, that this was what he and Val had talked about.

Going into this relationship with Cas, Stan had known there would be risks and he thought that it was good, getting some of his suspicions confirmed. The question of whether Dean and Cas would figure things out for themselves still remained unanswered, though, same as Stan’s own question about his feelings for Cas. For now, he supposed he would wait and see, strangely calmed after having met Cas’ most treasured person and seen them interact.

_“Yes,”_ he thought as he later drove home, stomach filled and mind at ease. _“I will guard my heart closely. If this thing with Cas works out for us, I will get a great boyfriend out of it but if Dean wakes up and Cas chooses him, I will still have made a great friend in Cas.” _

It felt good to come to this conclusion, Stan felt. And even if he and Cas ended up as just friends, he decided that he would stay by Cas’ side and always be a pain in Dean’s ass, because Stan would be the friend who’d had his boyfriend first and Dean would _know_ it.


	6. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! It's Thursday, time for another update and I, uh, guess some plot happened in this chapter? I mean let's be honest, the Stan/Cas/Dean love triangle is the center of attention but apparently other stuff happens in the background sometimes lol
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy some smut (no Destiel yet, we're gonna suffer some more hehe) ❤❤❤

One week after their dinner in the bunker, Stan invited Castiel over for burgers and a movie and Castiel was more than happy to accept. 

During the past week, he hadn’t been able to meet a lot with Stan, a case involving a Werewolf den keeping him and the Winchesters busy as they help clear it out. He’d kept texting Stan, though, as he usually did when he was away and everything seemed to go very well between them. They hadn’t actively brought up the fact that Stan had introduced himself as Castiel’s boyfriend but Castiel found that he didn’t really feel a need to put a label on their relationship. He did, however, briefly considered that maybe he was similar to the boy Jake in Stan’s class, who Karen said was her boyfriend. Maybe, he thought with affection, similar to Jake’s obliviousness, Castiel had been Stan’s boyfriend for a while and just hadn’t realized it. He found that he liked that notion.

In any case, Stan assured him that he had had a nice time at the dinner and though Castiel was sometimes slow when it came to human interactions he too had thought it had gone well. So to hear Stan tell him that had felt very liberating. 

Sam and Dean were the most important _anything_ in Castiel’s life and though he thoroughly enjoyed Stan’s company he still needed the three of them to get along or he and Stan probably wouldn’t last, sad as that might be to admit. But it had worked out and Castiel had been very happy. Sure, Sam had kept Dean on a short leash and Stan had seemed a bit stiffer than usual (not his normally warm self) but on the whole it had been an enjoyable evening and Sam had spoken highly of Stan while they were away on the hunt. 

And the most important thing to Castiel; Dean had been very supportive as well. He still dropped a snarky comment once in a while, yes, but he was clearly trying to be happy for Castiel and that was fantastic. Well… it was good. Should be incredible but… 

Castiel couldn’t put his finger on it because for the last few months all he had wanted was for Dean to stop being obstinate and just accept that Stan was happening but now that he was seemingly accepting it Castiel didn’t know what to think. Or, he knew he should think it was good, but he wasn’t so sure that was actually how he felt. Dean seemed caged and Castiel felt a little helpless, caught at some kind of precipice he couldn’t define or leave. 

Being in Stan’s company was far easier then and Castiel had eagerly accepted Stan’s invitation, though Dean’s disappointed face hadn’t escaped him. Dean hadn’t said anything though, and Sam had clapped Castiel on the shoulder and told him he deserved to spend some time alone with Stan so here he was.

Stan had ordered takeout burgers and Castiel had enjoyed them more than the last time he had burgers. He was really starting to get the hang of ignoring the grainy molecules and he was glad for it, especially considering how happy Stan looked to be sharing a meal. 

(Not to mention how happy Dean had seemed at the dinner last week when Castiel ate a healthy portion and complimented him on his cooking.)

After dinner they had taken a walk and then ended up in the living room when they got back, Castiel getting comfortable on the couch, sans jacket and coat. It was getting easier and easier to remove some of his layers and he thought that someday soon he would start changing his clothes too. Maybe to some flannel like Sam and Dean, not only to fit in with them but because it looked comfortable. 

“What do you want to watch?”

The question confused Castiel until he remembered that Stan didn’t know that Castiel had no real experience with movies. Aside from his binging on Netflix…

“I have no preference,” he smiled, unbuttoning his top button because he’d been told that made him look more casual. “You chose.”

“Okay,” Stan looked back at his vast collection of movies. At least that had been one thing Dean and Stan had managed to bond over. They had both watched a huge amount of movies in their days, though their preferred genres were vastly different. “How about _Water for Elephants_?”

He held up a DVD that showed and man and a woman embracing. There also seemed to be a train and an elephant on the cover, though Castiel was unsure how those would correlate. 

“Sure,” he said, nodding for good measure. “Dean mostly watches superhero movies and Sam prefers documentaries, that seems to be neither so it would be interesting.”

“Yeah,” Stan huffed out a smile, kneeling before his DVD player. “This is definitely none of that.”

Turned out that _Water for Elephants_ was about a man and a woman finding love in the circus, despite her already being married. Also, there were elephants, which Castiel assumed would be fed water at some point.

“This is nice,” Stan mumbled after about half the movie. He was curled up on the couch beside Castiel, who was sitting straight as usual. He was reminded of his recent movie night with Dean and found that he enjoyed the similarities (though they also for some reason made him melancholic).

“Yes,” Castiel said, invested in the story so far. “It’s an interesting movie.”

“I meant you on my couch with me,” Stan chuckled, patting Castiel’s knee and leaving his hand there.

They were sitting close enough that their sides touched, Stan’s legs up and under him, and it occurred to Castiel that perhaps he was expected to throw an arm up on the back to invite Stan closer. The thought intrigued him very much and he had to admit to himself that holding back from touching Stan too much (sexually) was getting tougher and tougher. They’d done some kissing since that time Castiel almost devoured Stan in the kitchen but not much else and Castiel was feeling an itch he’d never really felt before. His grace woke from its slumber as soon as he acknowledged that itch and it rushed through him, making him warm. 

“I enjoy it as well,” he said, very aware of Stan’s hand on his knee. He wanted to touch Stan’s legs too. 

Stan looked at him then, smile wide. “But I’m glad you like the movie too, maybe this means I’ve finally found someone to go to the movies with?”

That made Castiel frown in confusion. “Have you gone by yourself so far? I’ve come to understand that that’s odd behavior.”

That made Stan laugh, which always put a smile on Cas’ face. “No, silly. I go with friends, but barely any of them like my favorite tropes. Did you know Val’s favorite movies are horror?”

“Really?” Castiel asked, amused by the fact for some reason.

“Really, she _loves_ it, it’s the only thing we disagree on. The scarier, the better. Monsters and death and ugh,” Stan shuddered, closing his eyes momentarily. “That’s the only reason I got her to take me to see _Twilight_.”

“Because it’s scary?”

Stan gave Castiel a look that told Castiel that this was one of those things he should just know, but as usual when that happened, Stan didn’t scold him for his lack of knowledge. 

“Because it’s about vampires and she _thought_ it would be scary,” Stan said, tone conspiratory. “But surprise, it’s more like a teenage drama with romance. A girl falls in love with a vampire and they struggle to overcome their differences.”

“Sounds interesting,” Castiel said, thinking for some reason of him and Dean. What an absurd connection.

“You’d think so,” Stan muttered, sounding as if it most definitely hadn’t been. “I honestly only wanted to see it because I like Robert Pattinson.”

“Who?” Castiel’s grace reared up in the face of a potential rival. Which was of course completely ridiculous and quickly stomped out. 

“Jacob,” Stan half-laughed and pointed at the screen where the movie was still playing. “The actor.”

“Oh,” Castiel squinted at the screen for a moment. “I didn’t know his name.”

“I gathered,” Stan grinned and patted Castiel’s knee again. “Pause the movie, I’m gonna go and make us some popcorn.”

Castiel reached for the remote, doing as bid while Stan got up and went into the kitchen. Castiel stayed on the couch, debating whether to follow Stan for so long the man came back with a bowl of freshly popped corn before Castiel had made up his mind. 

“That smells nice,” Castiel said sincerely when Stan settled beside him again.

“Here,” he said, offering Castiel the bowl.

“No thank you, I don’t eat.”

The response was so automatic Castiel was actually a little surprised by it. First of all, what an odd thing to say (from a human’s perspective) and secondly, he’d been eating quite a lot lately and as recently as a few hours ago so what did his statement even mean in this moment to someone like Stan?

“Oh,” Stan slumped back against the couch. “That’s okay.”

“I meant, I’m still full,” Castiel added, hoping to correct his faux pas.

Stan picked at a popcorn and Castiel studied him intently, his grace reaching out and wrapping around Stan’s soul, feeling its insecurities. 

“Then… is it okay if I eat?”

“Of course,” Castiel frowned, wishing Stan would look at him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well I…” Stan let out a little laughter, shrugging. “I guess I just feel a little insecure sometimes. And you’re very… attractive. I want you to feel the same about me.”

Castiel’s grace screamed at him and he reached over, gripping Stan’s chin so he could tilt the man’s face up.

“And I do, Stan.”

“Really?” Stan mumbled, voice small and Castiel thought that this was his fault somehow. Stan had asked they stop on that day because he was overwhelmed but perhaps he had only meant for them to stop for that day, not to slow down as much as Castiel had done. “It’s just, you live with two _gorgeous_ men, why would you even look at another man?”

Because Sam was like a brother and Dean was driving Castiel insane, and not in the fun way. Driving him _away_, into the arms of someone else. Someone like Stan, with his square shoulders and impressive pecs. 

“Maybe,” Castiel said, voice low as he scooted closer on the couch, hand sliding to cup Stan’s jaw instead. “If someone absolutely exceptional came along I would.”

Stan’s eyes flicked down to Castiel’s lips and back up again and Castiel thought that if that was an invitation to kiss the man (like it felt), then he had missed many opportunities with Dean. But somehow, that was the least of his worries at this moment. 

Stan shifted closer too, putting the popcorn bowl on the table without even looking and Castiel’s grace sang, exuberant. 

“Cas, I know I said to slow down before…”

Castiel nodded just as Stan put his hands on him, pulling him closer. “But I slowed us down too much, I understand that now.”

“It’s okay,” Stan said, a little breathlessly.

“It’s not,” Castiel stated firmly, closing the distance between them and capturing Stan’s lips in a heated kiss.

Stan moaned into it, opening up almost immediately, and Castiel eagerly licked inside the man’s mouth, tongues curling as he took control of the kiss. An almost feverish heat came over him and he let his hand brush back even more, holding Stan’s neck as they both pressed closer, leg’s bumping.

Stan moaned loudly when Castiel nipped on his lower lip and that was a reaction Castiel filed away for later, pleasure spiking through him at the sound of Stan’s pleasure. He could feel his own dick filling out but somehow that seemed secondary to him, instead wanting to see and feel Stan’s arousal. Wanting to experience it first-hand, because of Castiel’s touches. 

His grace approved of this, wrapping possessively around Stan’s soul. A loud, wanton moan escaped Stan and he tore away from Castiel’s mouth, gasping and squeezing his eyes shut. He was feeling it, Castiel realized, the sensation of being embraced not only physically but spiritually as well. A rush of affection and desire overwhelmed Castiel and he put a hand on Stan’s chest, pushing him back.

Stan, pliant in his confused and aroused state, went with the motion and ended up sitting back, Castiel following and kissing him as soon as it seemed like Stan had recovered enough.

“Cas,” he whimpered and Castiel put his arm around Stan’s shoulders, holding him close as he brushed his hand down Stan’s chest, kissing him possessively. 

Stan kissed back just as feverishly, clinging to Castiel with fervor. He snaked one arm between Castiel’s waist and the couch, embracing him even as his other hand went up into Castiel’s hair, combing it back as he pulled Castiel closer. 

A shudder went through Stan’s body when Castiel found one of his nipples. Stan was wearing loose sweatpants but a tight-fitting t-shirt and his nipples had perked up enough to be visible through the shirt. Castiel rolled the little nub between his fingers for a moment before pinching it. Again, Stan tore away from the kiss, gasping.

“Cas,” his eyes were blown with lust, pleading. “I feel so hot. Everything is so hot, I need your touches.”

“Yes,” Castiel rumbled, knowing full well it was his grace that was heating Stan up. Not to dangerous levels, he would never hurt Stan, but in a way that spread the passion between them through the human’s core. “Let me touch you.”

“Anything,” Stan moaned submissively and Castiel smirked, diving in for another kiss as he let his hand wander down Stan’s chest and flat stomach.

His whole body jerked when Castiel cupped his erection and he pushed into the touch eagerly, hips rolling up when Castiel held his hand still. Stan was big even here, hot and hard, a handful in every sense and Castiel much enjoyed rubbing the whole length through Stan’s sweatpants. 

His own dick twitched in sympathy, or perhaps abandonment, but Castiel didn’t concern himself with it. Perhaps Stan would like to touch him too, aside from clutching Castiel’s side and fisting his hair, or perhaps Castiel would orgasm simply from making Stan achieve orgasm, Castiel didn’t much care. Not when Stan was responding so beautifully to him. 

Castiel couldn’t believe they had waited to do this for so long and at the same time he was glad they had. Because it didn’t feel rushed (even though it was kind of sudden) and it didn’t feel unwanted. Instead, raw desire rushed through him, pumping through his veins and making his grace sparkle. 

Stan let out a cry of dismay when Castiel removed his hand from the man’s dick but Castiel ignored it, it was only for a moment anyway. A quick moment, as he grabbed Stan’s thick thigh and pulled it over his own thigh, splaying the man open for him. Stan obviously felt Castiel’s hard dick then too, because he pulled out of the kiss, looking at Castiel with such desire that Castiel couldn’t help but smirk again and press Stan’s leg harder against his dick for a moment. 

“Do you feel what you do to me, Stan?” he rumbled, normally low voice even more gravelly from his arousal. “Don’t ever doubt yourself.”

Stan moaned, tilting his head as if begging for more kisses and Castiel greedily obliged, hand going back to Stan’s crotch to squeeze his dick. It made Stan jump and then he immediately started bucking into the touch again. He easily followed the pace Castiel set and Castiel reveled in the control Stan was giving him. Felt immense pleasure because of it, and he groaned into Stan’s mouth, tongues snaking together, teeth nipping eagerly.

Their movements soon grew urgent and Castiel thought he’d really waited too long because clearly they were both interested and pent up. It was a mistake he intended to correct, however, and though he didn’t want to press Stan down and have his way with the man without asking first, he was intent on making Stan come for him tonight. 

“Cas,” Stan moaned continuously when Castiel let himself explore the man’s throat and neck, lapping over Stan’s bobbing adam’s apple and nipping at his pulse. “Cas, Cas, I want…”

Castiel groaned, feeling a power rush like never before. Big, strong, and articulate Stan rendered a shaking mess because of his touches was really something else. He nosed up to Stan’s ear, licking the skin under his ear and pressing down the heel of his hand against Stan’s dick at the same time. 

“I want you to come,” he growled, fingers easily finding and outlining Stan’s full balls.

“We should stop,” Stan moaned, though he was holding Castiel tightly.

“I don’t want to stop,” Castiel’s grace snapped inside him, almost giving him a little electric shock. Forcing himself on Stan sexually would constitute as hurting him and Castiel couldn’t allow himself to do that and his grace was his last defense even when his mind fogged over. 

It instantly sobered him up and he realized with sudden clarity that he had never been this lost before, unless he was under the influence of a spell. He raised his head, eyes drinking in the sight of Stan in the throes of passion. Face tinted with a blush, hair damp from sweat, nipples perky and dick hard as a rock and still pushing into Castiel’s now still hand. 

“B-but Cas, my pants,” Stan was gasping, eyes shut and lips shining from their recent kissing. 

“You’re beautiful,” Castiel said, awed, and Stan’s eyes flew open.

“Oh shit,” he pressed out, voice strangled. “Oh shit, I’m gonna come.”

His hand shot down and grabbed Castiel’s wrist but he didn’t even try to pull Castiel away. Instead he just gripped him hard and grinded up against his hand for a few more moments.

“Yes,” Castiel hushed, watching Stan’s face intently. “Come by my touch.”

“F-fu...c_k_—”

Stan was spectacular when he orgasmed, face scrunched up and body shaking. Castiel thought reverently that he’d never anything so beautiful. Aside from Dean. 

* * *

“How about these?” Stan gently touched an absolutely beautiful yellow carnation, a small smile on his lips.

Cas squinted and took Stan’s hand, moving it to a white carnation instead. “Yellow for disdain, white for sweet and lovely,” he said, a smile of his own.

“Oh,” Stan laughed, a little breathlessly, and plucked a bouquet of white carnations instead of yellow. “I’m very happy you could come with me.”

“Me too,” Cas said, tone sincere as he moved to the next row of flowers. Pansies (thoughtfulness), purple and yellow ones.

For arts and craft week at the preschool, Stan had come with the idea that the children dry flowers and make bookmarks and decorations, perhaps for themselves or perhaps for their family. Christmas was, after all, just around the corner and Stan knew he always loved it when Dougie gave him something the boy had made himself.

The principal and Stan’s colleagues had felt the same and sent Stan on a mission to buy a boatload of flowers. That Cas had tagged along was just an added bonus for Stan, especially since the man seemed to have an abundance of knowledge about the flower language. Cas was just always full of surprises like that.

Like when he had blown Stan’s mind on the couch last weekend. To tell the truth, Stan was still reeling a bit from what had happened. He hadn’t come in his pants like that since he was a teenager and yet he didn’t have it in him to feel shame, not when he’d looked up and caught Cas looking at him with soft eyes. And he was so unapologetic about it too! Cas wasn’t perturbed in the slightest when he got caught staring and Stan loved it.

“Hey,” he mumbled, reaching out and taking Cas’ hand with his free hand. “Thank you for… a _lot_ of things.”

Cas pulled in a breath, a smile spreading on his lips. “And you t—”

He was interrupted when a large, hulking man deliberately walked into Stan’s shoulder, making him stumble into Cas’ chest.

“Watch where you’re going, _fag_,” the man muttered and Stan felt a stab in his gut.

Of course he did, even with how confident he was in his sexuality and with how much counselling he’d gotten from friends (and a professional that one time), it was still difficult to escape his emotions when faced with something like this. He shut his eyes, pictured his tattoo, his garden, and immediately felt pacified. Stuff like this didn’t happen as much anymore and when it did he barely reacted, just a moment of “not this shit again” but then he got over it.

“Hey!” Stan’s eyes ripped open at Cas’ commanding tone. Looking up, he saw that Cas was staring straight at the man, who seemed frozen in place. “Do you care to repeat that?”

The man seemed to stall, eyes wide as he looked at Cas and Stan could _feel_ why. There was something to Cas, Stan had known this for a long time, something _more_ than he could see or even put his finger on. It was the huge presence Stan felt behind him sometimes, it was the otherworldly atmosphere, the crackling electricity. Cas was dangerous, when he wanted to be.

Stan grabbed Cas’ arm, saying his name at the same time as the man said “no”, very softly.

Luckily, Stan was the one who caught Cas’ attention and the strange tension snapped, like a rubber band.

“Are you okay?”

Stan smiled, bringing his hand to Cas’ cheek just as the man retreated in the background. He kissed Cas’ lips once, quickly, and pulled away, still smiling.

“Let’s go back to the flowers, honey.”

Cas frowned, looked like he wanted to say something, to address what had happened, but in the end he nodded and Stan was grateful for it. Cas didn’t scare Stan, but there was something inside Stan that rather wanted the man happy and content than annoyed and upset.

_“I don’t want to make him feel like Dean does,”_ Stan realized as they turned back to the racks with flowers, lined in little buckets outside the flower shop. Such a silly thing to think, really, because he and Dean were so fundamentally different, other than both being biological men.

Lavender (message of devotion) was a given, chrysanthemum (honesty) in hues of pink and blue and cornflowers (wealth and good fortune) also went in Stan’s basket. Oh, there were so many flowers he wanted to buy but for one he was on a budget and other than that he had to take into consideration that the flowers needed to be suitable for the children to use.

For that reason he passed on a bundle of honeysuckle (devotion) and was delightfully surprised when Cas murmured sweetly that he would buy them for Stan to have in his home.

“You know,” Stan mumbled, smiling to himself as he pulled in the honeysuckle’s sweet scent. “I actually got this idea because of you.”

“How so?” Cas asked, carefully picking some violets (loyalty) to put in Stan’s basket.

“Because when that bouquet you gave me started looking a little sad I pulled the flowers from the vase and dried them,” he looked almost shyly at Cas when the man looked up to meet his eyes, surprised. “So I could keep them.”

“I didn’t know,” Cas said, sounding genuinely happy.

“That’s because I keep the bouquet in my bedroom,” Stan smirked, bumping Cas in his side with his elbow, making him chuckle.

Sure, they hadn’t had actual sex yet and sure, Stan was still a little shaky and totally fine with waiting (more fine than Cas seemed to think he was), but there was no denying that there was sexual tension between them and Stan enjoyed it. Sometimes he wondered if that was all there was between them: a clear sexual attraction, but mostly he felt a deeper connection with Cas as well. 

They were just deciding on whether to include hyssops (cleanliness and sacrifice) or not when Cas stiffened and turned around, brow pulled tight.

“What?” Stan asked and in the next moment a loud, black car turned the corner and idled along the street they were on.

It looked large and imposing, intimidating almost, and Stan thought he was being ridiculous because it was just another one of those old American muscle cars. Perhaps not that common in a small town like Lebanon but common enough.

The reason for Cas’ laser focus on the car became evident as soon as it slowed to a stop on the curb beside them. Dean was the driver and Sam was in the front seat beside him, though how Cas had known the brothers were coming even before the car had announced its arrival with its loud rumbling was a mystery to Stan. Presumably Cas had very good hearing because Stan had discovered that Cas could hear quite well even when Stan was in his kitchen and Cas on the couch in the living room.

“There you are,” Dean barked through the open window. “Did you forget how to answer your phone?”

Sam rolled his eyes and got out of the car at the same time as Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiping it open.

“I’d turned the sound down.”

“Smooth move,” Dean snorted and turned off the ignition, even though he was in a no parking zone.

He exited the car too, and with him came a man from the backseat that Stan at first hadn’t seen. He looked to be middle-aged, slightly shorter than Cas, in a black suit and a black pea coat. When he walked up to them he looked Stan up and down, openly checking him out and though Stan later couldn’t say why, that look made him take a step back, closer to Cas.

“Hey, Stan,” Sam said cheerily and Stan smiled back, opening his mouth to greet him back but the stranger interrupted.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, eyes calculating.

“Crowley,” Cas said, surprisingly warningly considering the man was only standing there, smirking slightly at Stan.

“So,” the man—Crowley, apparently—said, completely ignoring Cas. “Who’s this strapping young man, then?”

“I’m Stan,” Stan said, smiling as sincerely as he could despite getting a feeling Cas was annoyed. Sam and Dean didn’t look amused either and Stan wondered who this man actually was. “I’m Cas’… friend.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and Stan knew the pause before the word “friend” had been immediately noticed and interpreted as something more. Stan didn’t know what to say, he felt foolish for messing this up but at the same time he didn’t even know if he was messing up because he didn’t know if Cas wanted Stan to be introduced as his boyfriend or not. They still hadn’t talked about that and Stan was rather enjoying not being tied down by labels, though he realized that in moments like these it could be an inconvenience. 

“Would that we all had _friends_ who looked like you,” Crowley muttered and looked Stan up and down again.

“Don’t,” Cas snapped, even though Crowley had done nothing in particular.

“Yeah, Cas is right, cut it the fuck out,” Dean said, clear animosity in his tone 

It only made Crowley roll his eyes but Cas looked at Dean, their eyes catching, and Stan saw then what he had seen many times during his dinner with the three men. Dean and Cas’ bond felt almost like a living thing floating around them and from the looks of it Crowley and Sam felt it too. In fact, Crowley looked like he was gearing up to say something obnoxious about it when Cas interrupted him.

“Why are you here? What happened?”

“There was…” Sam hesitated for a moment, kind of just staring at Cas, who tilted his head to the side. “There’s a rabid dog loose in Iowa.”

There was a moment of silence, stretched out by Stan’s ignorance no doubt. He got the feeling he shouldn’t hear any of this but they didn’t ask him to leave and before he could excuse himself, Crowley leaned in.

“And it’s not mine.”

That made Cas squint. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“That’s what I said!” Dean exclaimed, slapping Sam on his arm. “I said that.”

Sam took a calming breath. “Yes. Crowley was the one to tell us about it.”

“You’re _welcome_.”

Cas didn’t spare Crowley a glance but the man didn’t seem the least perturbed. Stan was by now so invested in the conversation he’d forgotten about leaving. He didn’t know _why_ a story about a lost dog poked at his attention and he didn’t know why he’d felt as if this was something he shouldn’t overhear either, and all the questions amounted to curiosity, which glued him to the sidewalk.

“He also gave us this,” Sam said and handed Cas a folded piece of paper.

Stan tried his hardest not to look at the paper because he was starting to think this had something to do with Cas’ job and Cas had asked that Stan didn’t ask about that. Which in and of itself made Stan curious but he liked Cas enough to respect his wishes. All that said, there was nothing he could do about his peripheral vision and Cas didn’t even try to hide what was on the paper.

Not that he had to hide it, whatever it was, it was clearly written in a foreign language. Big and harsh letters had been handwritten in thick black ink, as if someone had used a quill rather than a regular pen.

“Do you know what it is?” Dean asked and Cas hummed, folding the paper again.

“I do,” he looked at Crowley, frowning, and the man shook his head as if saying no. “We need prisms, then.”

“Prisms?” Dean threw his hands up. “Great. Do you know where to get those? Home depot?”

“So unrefined, squirrel,” Crowley remarked dryly and Stan couldn’t help but suppress a smile when he realized squirrel was Crowley’s nickname for Dean. It was oddly fitting.

“He’s right, they have to be refined,” Cas confirmed when Dean looked like he was about to smack Crowley up the head.

“There’s a lamp store in Kansas City that sells prisms,” Stan said then, drawing the attention of the other four. They looked at him almost as if they’d forgotten he was there but somehow Stan didn’t feel offended by that. “For chandeliers.”

Sam immediately pulled out his phone, tapping on it. “Do you think you have to buy in bulk?”

“No,” Stan shook his head slowly. “You can buy them one piece at a time. My friend and her sister helped their mom fix an old chandelier there, they even threaded the prisms for them.”

“How considerate,” Crowley exclaimed. “We simply _must_ go there.”

“Oh come on,” Dean sighed. “Kansas City? Aren’t there any closer stores? Crowley, you could just go get some.”

“I’m not a mule,” Crowley snapped, irritated for the first time. “You should be lucky I came to you with this.”

“Oh please, you just don’t want anyone to assume it’s your hell—ish hounds. Vicious dogs.”

“Nice save,” Crowley drawled and Stan watched, strangely fascinated once again, as Dean pursed his lips and squinted at Crowley, while the man just threw him a quick kiss.

“Is this the store?” Sam asked and held up his phone for Stan to see a Google search photo of the front of the store he remembered from accompanying Val and Fran there.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think they will be good enough?” Sam asked Cas and Cas nodded slowly.

“It’s a chance but yes, I believe so.”

“Great!” Crowley said loudly, clapping his hands together. “So we’ll go then? Squirrel, moose, feathers and the King, back together, riding again.”

“Don’t get excited,” Dean snapped. “Cas might not have time for us, he’s on a _date_. Can’t you see that?”

“You know,” Crowley groused. “Despite your Rapunzel eyes, green isn’t really your color.”

“I don’t have Rapunzel eyes!” Dean said, tone louder and squeakier than Stan would have thought a man of his stature would be able to produce. He watched, amused as Dean flailed for a moment when Crowley levelled him with a very unimpressed look.

“You know what they say, darling,” he answered calmly, tone haughty. “You don’t miss the cow until the booth is empty.”

“What? _No one _says that, that’s not a real idiom!”

Stan, who already had figured out that Crowley was well acquainted with Dean and Cas’ dance and had immediately seen the threat Stan posed to that dance, found all of this immensely amusing. Cas was looking tired, though, and Sam looked unaffected, tapping away on his phone again, clearly too used to scenes like this by now.

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam mumbled, tone uninterested. “I feel like I’ve heard it a bazillion times,” his blasé tone clearly made Dean more agitated and Stan couldn’t help but grin when Crowley gave him a wink. Whoever this Crowley was, Stan liked him. “Anyway, we should go to that store before it closes.”

“Crowley can go,” Dean shot back only to get shot down when Crowley gave him a glare.

“I think not, _Dean_,” Crowley said, brushing invisible dust off his coat lapels. “Crowley has other things to do, in regards to that,” he waved at the paper in Cas’ hand.

“He’s right,” Cas intoned, his normally gravelly voice a low rumble. “We should split up. If this truly isn’t Crowley’s dog we might have bigger problems.”

Stan wondered briefly why they weren’t trusting Crowley when he said he had nothing to do with the possibly rabid dog. And he also considered what “bigger problems” might entail. A rabid bear? The image frightened him and he turned to Cas, taking his hand and squeezing.

“Then you should hurry before something happens.”

“Are you sure?” Cas looked very sorry for their day having been cut short and yes, of course Stan was a little disappointed because they had planned to have dinner after buying the flowers, but work was work after all.

“I’m sure. Just promise to be careful, I don’t know how dangerous pest control usually is but a vicious dog doesn’t sound good. I’m getting Cujo images and it makes me nervous.”

“Cujo,” Cas said, a small smile on his lips. “I understand that reference.”

“Pest control?” Crowley interrupted, which was good because Stan could have melted from Cas’ adorableness alone.

“Yes,” Cas said, turning to look at Crowley with steely eyes. “Me, Dean and Sam work in pest and rodent control, you know that.”

“And we also help rangers with bigger game,” Sam piped up and there was something odd with the way they said it. With the way Crowley looked between them, something that didn’t quite add up and now that Stan thought about it, what did pest control have to do with a possibly rabid dog? And what was up with that paper?

He looked back to Cas, opening his mouth to ask, but Cas beat him to it, closing the distance and kissing him right on the mouth. A sense of peace washed over Stan and he felt tranquil when Cas pulled back, a smile on his face.

“I’ll be careful,” Cas murmured and Stan nodded dumbly. God, kissing Cas was really the best.

He waved them off as they piled into the black car again, smiling widely when Crowley said “nice meeting you, Captain America”, and then went back to shopping for his flowers, taking extra care to pick some out that he would give to his boyfriend later.

* * *

So it turned out that that lone hellhound hadn’t been alone at all. Also, it had all been a trap to capture Crowley. At first it hadn’t worked because the person (demon) who had set the trap hadn’t counted on Crowley running to the Winchesters, and they most definitely hadn’t counted on the Winchesters’ pet angel to tag along.

What a battle it had been, Castiel almost thought fondly of it now in the aftermath, reminded of the old days when he was a simple warrior of God and everything was easy.

And then it hadn’t been so easy any more and more demons had joined the fray. Dean had been viciously mauled by hellhounds, the instigator had introduced themselves as Dagon, prince of hell (despite using a female vessel), someone who was tired of Crowley’s pompous rule. Sam had suffered a concussion when he’d attacked Dagon, Crowley had been captured, and Castiel had barely gotten the Winchester brothers out of there alive.

At least the rogue hellhounds were dead.

“We have to fucking get Crowley back,” Dean had said when Castiel had managed to heal him and Sam. Dean was always a little too eager to jump the gun.

“Why?” Sam had exclaimed, still looking woozy, though Castiel had made _sure_ his concussion was over. “For all we know he staged this ploy to get us killed. Or get _Cas_ captured.”

Castiel hadn’t liked that one bit because Crowley had been introduced to Stan (and licked him all over with his filthy demon tentacles) and would know where to strike to hurt Castiel, more than usual. This was one of the main reasons hunters rarely got romantic partners and even more rarely fraternized outside their hunter circles, Castiel knew all of this but it hadn’t stopped him and now both Stan and Val might be in danger.

“Because,” Dean had gritted, eyes determined. “It might _not_ be a ploy and if you think about it like that, who would you rather have on hell’s throne? Someone who comes to us with info about hunts, or _Dagon_?”

So here they were, four days later returning to the bunker, beaten and bruised (their egos, Castiel made sure with regular sweeps of his grace that the brothers were in good health) but determined to fix this mess.

“So much for peace and quiet,” Dean grumbled when they were parked in the bunker’s garage. “And what the hell did Dagon mean when she mentioned Lucifer? He’s dead, right?”

“Technically he was only ripped out of my vessel,” Castiel said lowly and looked down at his hands, remembering the feeling of sharing this body with Lucifer. His grace shuddered at the mere memory. “He could be anywhere.”

“Oh great,” Dean snapped, getting out of the Impala, slamming the door. “And here I thought there were no world-ending threats around. When were you planning on telling us this, Cas?”

Castiel, agitated, opened his mouth to remind Dean that he’d told him as soon as he was back to himself, which had been only moments after it happened, but Sam cut between.

“One problem at a time, guys. Dagon might have just been messing with us when she said Lucifer’s still alive.”

“I dunno,” Dean groused. “Crowley got awfully shifty when she started talking about that son of a bitch.”

“In that case there’s all the more reason to find and save Crowley,” Castiel interjected, pleased when Sam nodded.

“Fine, where do we start?”

Sam heaved a huge sigh. “You guys start on a scrying spell to see if you can locate Crowley like that. I’m gonna head to the library in Smith Center. There was something to the binding circle Dagon used on Crowley, I think I’ve seen it before in a book.”

“And you have to go to Smith Center for that?” Dean almost sneered, clearly upset about all of this and frankly so was Castiel. “We have tons of books here.”

“Exactly,” Sam said, levelling Dean with a flat stare. “We have _so much_ knowledge here I don’t know where to start looking. In the library I know and I’m going.”

He turned on his heels and started walking towards the stairs and Dean just rolled his eyes at Sam’s turned back.

“You start the scrying,” he said to Castiel, shaking his head as if this was all a great injustice and in a way it was. “I’ll call Rowena.”

Castiel nodded. “Good luck,” he retreated with that, grinning to himself when he heard Dean grumble. Castiel enjoyed Rowena’s sometimes frustrating company and sometimes he thought that maybe Dean didn’t like her because they were too similar. They were both feisty, for one.

An hour later the ingredients for the scrying spell was brewing, Rowena was on her way, Sam had been gone for a while, and Castiel had checked in on Stan via text message. His boyfriend (yes, Castiel had decided to use that term for now, at least to himself) was seemingly safe and happy to hear from Castiel. He’d asked, of course, if they had had troubles with the dangerous dog and Castiel had ached with the need to tell him the truth. In the end he’d made up a handy lie, or half-truth more like, and Stan had seemed to accept that as enough.

They had spent some time texting about Stan’s flower project for the preschoolers and it had been so effortless Castiel had gotten a warm feeling in his stomach. When he later walked through the bunker, looking for Dean, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Dean was, not unexpectedly, in the garage, looking over the Impala. He did that a lot, much more as of late, but this time it was justified considering the beating she had taken during the recent hunt.

He looked up when Castiel approached him, smiling as he wiped his hands on a rag so dirty it didn’t look like it would help much.

“I managed to get the dent out.”

“So you did,” Castiel said fondly, brushing his fingers against the hood. “You’re good at this.”

“Nah,” Dean mumbled deflectively and put the rag in his back pocket. “But I guess I’ve learned a trick or two over the years.”

Castiel watched Dean’s face for a moment, eyes soft, while the man got down on his knees and rifled through his tool box. One of Dean’s favorite tricks was definitely self-deprecation and it was the one Castiel loathed the most.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked when Dean rested back on his heels. “I can make you a sandwich?”

“In a bit,” Dean nodded to the car. “I just gotta take a look at the discs.”

“Discs?” Castiel asked, squinting at the car. It made Dean chuckle.

“You’re cute when you do that thing with your face.”

“What?” Castiel asked, touching his cheek, but Dean averted his eyes as soon as Castiel looked down, the tips of his ears red.

“I meant the brake discs,” he said instead, tone rushed, and Castiel realized Dean was embarrassed. It was oddly endearing. “Lemme just get the jack and I’ll lift her up.”

“No need,” Castiel said, feeling uncharacteristically brazen. “What do you need lifted?”

“Oh, uh, I need to get to the rear left tire.”

Castiel walked over and bent down, grabbing the Impala under her trunk and lifted her up. The car creaked, the front tires moving, but she didn’t slide out of his grip.

“Is this enough?”

“Shit,” Dean mumbled, sounding strangely choked. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. I’ll just get some blocks under her, hang on.”

He put some blocks in front of both front tires, wedging them in and oh, that was better. Now Castiel didn’t have to hold back the pull of the car, just focus on keeping her lifted. Which, to be honest, required no focus at all, not with the way his grace enhanced his body’s muscles. If Dean could see it, he would notice Castiel’s whole arm glowing warmly, but of course he only saw a man, holding up a car’s rear end with one hand.

“That _is_ better,” he commented and Dean threw him a grin.

“You sure you’re okay holding her up? Tell me if you get tired.”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

Dean just shook his head, still grinning, and scooted over to sit on his rump with his legs crossed as he started loosening the bolts on the tire. He worked for a while, the silent comfortable, and Castiel found himself looking at Dean’s face most of the time, studying him. He found he liked this, helping Dean with the car. It wasn’t very common that Dean asked for help, even from Sam, and even though he technically hadn’t asked this time either Castiel still felt appreciated.

“There we go,” Dean said when he was done with whatever he had done to the disc (had looked to be cleaning it) and fastening the tire again. “It’s not glamorous work but it beats floor hugging hellhounds.”

“Dean,” Castiel frowned slightly when the topic of their hunt was so suddenly brought up. “I never asked you, how are you feeling?”

“What?” Dean looked up, seemingly genuinely surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean about the hellhounds clawing you,” he answered, watching the man’s face for a change in emotion.

“I’m good?” he was clearly still not following and Castiel debated whether to bring up his actual concerns or not. “You healed me, remember?”

“I remember,” Castiel mumbled and gingerly lowered the car when Dean got to his feet and indicated that he wanted Castiel to. “I remember every time I’ve healed you.”

“Oh,” Dean rubbed his nose, getting smudges of oil on it. “That’s not creepy at all.”

Dean’s soul seemed to delight in the fact, though. Castiel stepped closer. “I meant because it might have reminded you of the time you got dragged to hell.”

Dean pulled in a big breath and Castiel for a moment feared he had ruined their previously tranquil moment. Dean hadn’t been this relaxed around him in a long time and Castiel didn’t want it to end, though his concern for Dean’s psyche seemed more pressing.

“To be honest, yeah it did,” he turned to look Castiel straight in the eyes and it almost startled the angel. “When it was happening I almost pissed my pants. Not so much because it hurt like a motherfucker but because I kept thinking ‘it’s happening again’, you know?”

“I do,” Castiel mumbled, grace aching to reach out for the man and there was nothing he could do to stop it when Dean’s soul suddenly called out for him.

“But it wasn’t the same, because you were there,” he grinned suddenly, making Castiel release a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. “You went all medieval on that dog.”

Castiel blinked, unable to see the fun in the memory. “It was going to kill you.”

“And you punched its head off, didn’t know that could happen.”

“Well,” Castiel mumbled, an uncertain smile spreading on his lips when Dean wouldn’t stop grinning. He stepped even closer. “Now you know.”

“Yeah, now I know what happens to things that threaten my life.”

Castiel’s eyes drew down to Dean’s lips when the man wet them quickly. “I’ve smited demons for you before.”

“Yeah, but I like you being hands on more.”

Castiel moved closer again, grace singing with delight when Dean didn’t move away, though he was well past the man’s limits for personal space. He realized what he wanted to say in answer to Dean’s cheekiness would be misinterpreted as a sexual innuendo and only changed his mind at the last second.

“Anything for you, Dean.”

No, that was almost worse!

Dean’s eyes shifted down to Castiel’s lips too and lingered far longer than Castiel’s gaze had. He was instantly reminded of when Stan had done the same, and how Castiel had reacted then. His body flushed hot because of the memory but his grace thrashed in disdain. He wanted to do that with _Dean_, but Castiel had chosen Stan, hadn’t he? Because Dean had pushed him away again. 

Only now it seemed he was calling for Castiel again, his soul screaming, distraught as Castiel’s grace pulled away.

“So,” Dean said, almost as if he had heard Castiel’s inner struggle. “We were away for a while, have you told Stan you’re back?”

As usual when Dean was talking about Stan, Castiel could hear the strain in his tone, the forced cheerfulness. And even if he hadn’t, he could see how Dean’s soul shrank away from the topic of Castiel’s boyfriend.

“I have, and I promised him none of us caught rabies.”

That made Dean chuckle, though it was still strained. “That _is_ a plus when working with hellhounds. No rabies, only regular viciousness,” he moved to go over to the tool box again, picking up tools seemingly at random, and Castiel felt cold without Dean’s closeness. “Sorry we got him involved, though.”

“It was my fault for not answering the phone,” Castiel mumbled and didn’t even bother to hide his mixed feelings when Dean straightened and looked at him again. “And I anyway used my grace on him to pacify him.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

Castiel almost squirmed, uncomfortable. “Yes. It’s not as severe as erasing memories but I _did_ make him feel at ease with the strange conversation we forced him to listen to and though I feel good about him being out of the loop it still feels…”

“Wrong to lie to someone you love,” Dean mumbled, eyes averted.

“And like a violation,” Castiel added. “I shouldn’t use my grace on him like that. On any human.”

“You did the right thing, though,” Dean stated confidently and somehow that made Castiel feel better. “It’s better for him to live a normal life.”

“You don’t think I should tell him at some point?”

Dean was quiet for a moment but his soul was _loud_. Castiel almost covered his ears against the cry of lament.

“I think, if you truly love him you should tell him,” he mumbled after a while, eyes once again averted. “I don’t know if you know,” he looked up but the smile he gave Castiel was sad beyond belief. “But I used to have a girlfriend called Cassie, as fucked up as that sounds,” Castiel didn’t know why that would be fucked up, although considering his nickname he could see what Dean was hinting at. “Anyway, I was young and dumb and so fucking in love that I told her everything. She thought I was crazy and broke up with me, of course that didn’t stop her from calling me when she needed help,” he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. Castiel wanted to hug him but didn’t. “Anyway, my point is that if you really love Stan, he deserves to know the truth and if you’re truly meant to be together he’ll accept all this.”

“I think you have a point,” Castiel said lowly after a quiet moment and Dean nodded, not looking at him. “But telling him would put him in danger, no?”

“Cas,” Dean chuckled but it wasn’t a happy sound. “_Being_ with you puts him in danger. Look at Lisa and Ben.”

Yes, Castiel remembered quite clearly what had happened between Dean and Lisa, and how it had ended. Clearly the wound was still fresh or at least deep enough that it would never quite heal.

“You’re right,” Castiel agreed and Dean nodded again, walking over to the driver seat to pull the lever that popped the hood. “I’ve been selfish in this whole thing with Stan.”

“Well,” Dean said, tone fake-nonchalant. “When is love ever anything _but _selfish?” he was grinning but Castiel could see the hurt in his eyes, could feel the longing and yearning, and he was walking over to the man before he’d thought his actions over.

“Dean…”

Dean was leaning against the car but he looked up when Castiel walked right into his personal space again. Their eyes locked and Castiel’s grace felt on fire. Everything that had happened over the last few months came rushing back to him and he could see Dean thinking about it too, about what _had_ happened and what could have happened.

Time stretched out and just when Castiel was about to say fuck it, to just grab Dean and kiss him, to just take that step that Dean seemed incapable of but still yearning for. Right at _that _moment, when Castiel resolve was about to break, when he was about to betray Stan’s trust in him, despite his grace screaming at him not to, to do this _right_. Right when Castiel was about to fall to humanity, _for_ humanity.

Right then Dean’s phone went off, blaring a rock song.

They both jerked, almost jumping apart, and Castiel’s heart raced as he struggled to catch his breath. Dean seemed in a similar state but managed to sound normal when he answered his phone.

“Crowley?”

Castiel had to force himself to calm down, shame over his own weakness washing over him. He met Dean’s bewildered eyes and signed for him to put the demon on speaker phone.

“—the bitch and escaped,” Crowley finished just as Dean put him on.

“Where are you now?”

“Don’t you mind that, squirrel,” Crowley snapped. “I’m not calling you for help. I’m just doing this as a courtesy. You might want to warn all your little hunter friends because there will be hell for you when there’s war in hell.”

“So Dagon is still alive?” Castiel asked, already following Crowley’s line of thinking. If she had captured him, intent on taking over hell after his demise, and he now had escaped, there would be retaliation.

“Yes,” Crowley snapped, apparently not surprised at all that Castiel was there to hear him too. “Her and some of her entourage too, I assume. But they won’t be for long, I will not stand for this insult.”

“What are you planning?” Dean asked, eyes locked on Castiel’s and betraying his concern about this development. “We can help you, we don’t want a war any more than you do.”

“Don’t presume to know what I want,” Crowley spit, clearly indignant about the way he’d been treated and Castiel couldn’t blame him. “Dagon will get hers, the little shit. I have a secret weapon she’ll never see coming.”

“Is this about Luci—” Castiel was cut off when Crowley abruptly hung up.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Dean sighed and tapped on his phone to bring up Sam’s contact. “Good thing I fixed up the car, huh?”

Castiel smiled, eyes soft as he watched Dean put the phone to his ear, calling his brother. A lot of good things had happened here, he thought.

Good thing they had gotten some time alone together, good thing Crowley had escaped, good thing he’d called when he did because otherwise Castiel might have done something incredibly stupid because his determination to keep away from Dean was shaking in its foundations. That last thing didn’t feel like a good thing, though.

Because for how much Dean had hurt him, for how much his heart had suffered, he still recognized all the signs that Dean was trying his best and Castiel couldn’t help but still love the man, flaws and all.


	7. Belonging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! An early update this week because work is BLEH. I hope you don't mind? ( ˘ ³˘)♥
> 
> The first part of this chapter is mainly dedicated to my beta BeeCas, who might be the biggest Salerie supporter to date lol  
Other than that things are getting real, my friends, so please bear with the situation a _little_ bit longer ♥♥♥

It was already pretty late when Sam parked his motorcycle of choice outside the Smith Centre local library but thankfully not late enough for the library to be closed, even if he would cut it close. He jumped off the bike as soon as it was secured and walked quickly over to the doors, ominous dark clouds, heavy with rain, making him feel somber. If it didn’t rain when he got out again it would definitely start while he was driving back to the bunker and it wasn’t like he had any protective gear on.

Hopefully this would be quick, though. He just needed that book with the references to ancient ritualistic summoning circles. He was _sure_ Dagon had manipulated one of those to fit her needs, which was probably why Cas hadn’t immediately recognized it for what it was (or Crowley, now that Sam thought about it). Hell, the only reason he had reacted to the circle’s composition was because he had seen something like it in this book while he was researching something completely different months ago.

Well inside he just nodded to the librarian, it was the sweet one (Tammy? Sam wanted to say Tammy) who’d helped him find books before. She smiled widely at him and almost got up out of her seat behind the desk but he just walked over to the stairs that led down to the basement level where he knew they kept the older books. He didn’t like being rude but he felt like he was on a schedule here. With Crowley captured, who knew what could happen? Not that he gave a rat’s ass about Crowley, Dagon could kill him for all Sam cared. But Dean did have a point and Sam wasn’t the least interested in seeing hell on Earth just because Crowley got taken out by some smartass prince of hell.

And then there was the fact that Dagon had mentioned Lucifer as if he was actually alive and Cas confirming it and God they were so _stupid_. They had _known _Lucifer wasn’t dead, no angel died by being forcibly evicted from a vessel, Cas had been blasted from his body a lot of times and he was still around. He supposed they had been so greedy for peace after Amara that they had grown complacent first chance they got. Whatever, Sam had just to focus and find the book, it could possibly help them locate Crowley or give a hint on how to save him and maybe it could even help with Lucifer too, Sam didn’t know how but he wasn’t past hoping.

The basement level was badly lit and dusty and Sam knew from hours sitting down there pouring over old tomes the bunker didn’t actually contain that it was seldom used. He didn’t stop to check if someone was down there now, in the back where the reading table was, instead he simply went to the shelf he knew contained what he wanted and started looking for the book.

He stopped by the shelf when he’d found it, quickly going through it to see if he could find what he wanted. It was there, just as he remembered and he snapped a photo of the circle in question before he started skimming through the text. At the back of his mind he registered the sound of someone walking down the stairs but he didn’t think much of it, squinting down at the yellowing pages in thought. He didn’t usually check out books but he was considering doing it with this one.

He looked up at the shelf and the backs of the other books adjacent to this one. Maybe he should check out some of its sisters too, Sam suspected at least one of them would probably be useful. And though he himself had trouble reading it since it was partially written in Aramaic, he was certain Cas could read it for them.

“Hey stranger,” someone to his left suddenly said and Sam startled so badly he almost dropped the book in his hands.

He fumbled with it, managed to save it, and turned to the person. Only to notice that it was _Val_ of all people, which made him almost drop the book again. He flailed wildly, almost slamming the book flat against the shelf before he caught it.

Val raised an eyebrow and leaned against the shelf. Sam breathed harshly, eyes wide as he looked at her, sweeping his gaze up and down her whole body and oh boy…

She was wearing black bootsies and a tight black skirt, her legs (that went on for _miles_) were clad in socks that went all the way up to her thighs, leaving only a sliver of skin between the socks and her skirt. What caught his eye was her top, though.

It was a shirt in a sheer fabric, almost see-through, which looked to be a size or two too big because it slid off her shoulder, tantalizingly, and she had tied it in a knot over her stomach, leaving a _lot_ of skin exposed. Golden, tanned skin (too tanned not to be a salon at this time of year) was on display and Sam’s eyes drank it in greedily, definitely getting caught on the silky bralette that covered only the bare minimum of her dainty breasts.

He swallowed, _harshly_, and barely dared to meet her eyes when he realized he’d been staring like a creeper.

“Hey,” he said, voice shaky. “You surprised me.”

“I gathered,” she grinned, pushing off the shelf to sashay closer. “And you too, who would have thought that Tanya’s handsome mystery stranger was _you_?”

“Tanya?” Sam’s mind spun, Val’s sudden closeness intoxicating.

They’d been texting on and off since last they met but it had all been rather impersonal and Sam had gotten the impression that she was keeping him on a short leash, perhaps to test the waters. He was okay with that, though, considering his life, but now that he had her in front of him he suddenly realized how much he had missed _seeing_ her. And that was just from meeting twice before.

“That’s cruel, you don’t even know her name and she’s so in awe of you,” she said bemusedly, her dark eyes glittering. Sam could barely concentrate. Her lips were painted the faintest hue of purple and Sam wanted to _taste_ the color.

“The librarian,” he pressed out when she was standing right in front of him. “I know her.”

“She’s my friend,” Val stated, big eyes pinning him down as she looked up at him through her lashes. This close up he couldn’t help but look down her bralette as soon as he tried to meet her eyes. “I came here to pick her up after her shift, we’re going to my sister’s for drinks. Can you imagine my surprise when I came back from the restroom and she told me that that guy who comes in once in a while and is a total hunk just walked down to the basement?”

Sam swallowed and put the book on top of the other books on the shelf.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she purred, reaching to lightly trail her slim fingers down the buttons on his shirt. “So I said ‘I have to check him out’ and then it turned out to be _you_,” her eyes snapped up to his again. “_My_ hunk.”

Sam’s whole body flushed hot and he drew a big breath, hands trembling with how much he wanted to touch her.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

God, he sounded like _such_ a tool. Why was he so uncool around her? Not that he wanted to be brazen and bold like Dean but it would be nice to not sound like a whipped little school boy when he talked to her, at least.

She actually smiled a little at that, though, taking a step closer and tilting her head back.

“I know, I’m sorry. I like to test compatibility at a distance at first but my friend keeps telling me I’ve tested you enough and now…” she looked him up and down and shit, Sam could feel his whole body respond to that. To her scent, her eyes, her body. “Now that I’m here with you in person, after having gotten to know you a little better, I think he’s right…” she met his eyes boldly, biting her lower lip and Sam felt such a rush of desire that he almost got dizzy.

“Val, I…”

She rushed up, sealing their lips together before Sam had a chance to gather his wits and his chance to be rational went out the window with that kiss. And he wasn’t even sorry.

Instead, he just wrapped his arms around her, hands big on her slim waist and back, as she snaked her arms around his neck, hands up and into his hair to hold on as he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. Her lips tasted sweet, the feeling of them against his own so freeing he was almost more euphoric than aroused for a moment.

And then she opened up to him, inviting him in, and he groaned when their tongues met for the first time. She moved fast, tongue darting in to meet his, and he felt a thrill at her blatant display of desire. There was no permeable here, she wanted him and he wanted her possibly even more.

Urged on by her breathless little moan, he turned them so that he could press her up against the shelf. She was much shorter than him but he remedied that by putting his hands on her ass, hiking her up his body as he put a thigh between hers, giving her support. The position also made her pelvis grind against his and he groaned again when his hardening dick pressed against her.

“Shit,” she panted when they parted enough to breathe. Sam put a hand in her thick hair, pulling her head to the side so that he could kiss the side of her neck. “_Everything’s_ big on you.”

It took him a moment to figure out that she was talking about his dick and he felt animalistic pride at her reverent tone. She gripped him tightly, grinding against him, and he let one hand travel down her thigh, grabbing her just behind her knee and pulling her higher up his body. She followed pliantly, wrapping her leg around him and kissing him again.

He wanted so much to touch her breasts, to cup them in his palm and feel her nipples harden. Even now he could feel them against his chest, through all their layers of clothing, he could feel her nipples press against him and he felt a surge of pleasure at both the feeling and the thought of more.

Naked, he wanted her naked and in his bed.

She moaned, louder than before, when he deepened the kiss. Everything felt urgent and needy, Sam’s whole body hot enough to be unbearable and yet all he wanted was more of her heat. He could feel it, between her legs, how hot she was for him and his dick ached to soothe her body’s needs.

The hand on her leg travelled almost as if on its own accord, up and up, past the sock and under her skirt. She pulled on his hair, making him hiss in pleasure, and broke away from the kiss to mouth against his jawline, letting her teeth drag tantalizingly against his stubble.

It was when his fingers made contact with her panties (lace) that his mind screeched to a halt. He was so close to snapping, so close to just ripping off her skirt and panties and bending her over the reading table, _so_ close but _they were in a public library_.

“No,” he mumbled, sucking in a breath when she nibbled on his earlobe at the same time as she grinded hard against his throbbing dick. “No, Val, wait.”

“Why?” she asked, tone breathless and sultry and almost enough to turn him back into a beast. “I want you.”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “Because I want you too but I want our first time to be in a bed,” he almost didn’t dare to look at her when she pulled away a little (though their bodies were still pulsing and glued together). “I mean, I think you’re too special to… to fuck somewhere anyone could walk in on us.”

A smile spread across her face, her flushed cheeks and blown eyes making it more sly than sweet.

“That’s adorable.”

“It’s not,” Sam almost croaked when he realized what he had actually meant by his own words. “I just want you for myself.”

That statement forced a surprised little squeak out of her and she was kissing him again. And though it was sweeter this time, their shared desire for each other soon made the kiss fervent and urgent again and Sam was almost humping her by the time his phone went off. They both startled and Sam hastened to put a hand on the back of her head so she wouldn’t hit it when they slid down the bookshelf.

“Fuck that scared me,” she laughed, breathlessly and Sam could do nothing but huff out a grin himself.

“Same, Jesus,” he stepped away from her, thinking it was for the best anyway. He spent so much time helping her right her clothes that the phone call cut off and his touches turned more into petting than regular touches.

She was pushing into his touches (and personal space) when the phone went off again, making Sam grunt in annoyance even though it was a kind of blessing because _apparently_ he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

She laughed again and he rolled his eyes as he dug out his phone, seeing that it was Dean. He turned off the sound and pocketed the phone again.

“Need to take that?” she asked, her tone cheeky and he smiled apologetically.

“Yeah, it’s my brother. Probably about work.”

“You work with your brother?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, already feeling himself getting pulled in by her eyes again. But God they were beautiful. “Look, I… I gotta get back but… do you think we could…?”

“Text some more?” she filled in, tone assertive and alluring at the same time. “Text about more personal, _intimate_ stuff? Meet up?” she came closer, movements sensual enough to revive Sam’s dick. “Have sex?”

“All of the above,” Sam mumbled, hands twitching like that again.

She grinned widely, turning to grab his book, handing it to him. “You’re a dork, Sam. I like that,” she looked him up and down. “I like a lot about you.”

“Me too,” he said, inexplicably shy considering he’d almost had his way with her in such a public place.

“I’m gonna tell Tanya you’re unavailable. Because you’re well on your way to becoming mine.”

Sam felt a punch of adrenaline go through him and he grinned too, exhilarated. “Please do.”

She opened her mouth as if to say something but was interrupted when Sam’s phone went off _again_. So instead she just gave him a wink and walked out of the basement, going up the stairs at the same time as Sam ripped up his phone, answering as aggressively as someone could on a touch screen.

“What?!” his eyes widened at Dean’s hurried words on the other side of the line. “Hang on, Crowley did _what_?”

* * *

The aftermath of Dagon’s ploy to capture Crowley and take over hell dragged on well over both Thanksgiving and Christmas. A few demons sided with Dagon, mostly Crowley dealt with things himself, Dean was reminded of Abaddon and that whole mess, and Sam worked with Rowena to concoct a tracking spell for finding Crowley quickly.

The whole mess with Lucifer was another matter. So far none of them had seen any signs that he might be coming back to haunt them but they didn’t take any chances. Cas even went to the other angels, both to warn them and to ask for assistance and though they still seemed to resent him they agreed that Lucifer was a common enemy and Cas came back with a spell that would alert them the first time Lucifer (or any archangel, more like) used their grace.

All in all the fallout was less than Dean had feared but more than he cared for and even as Dean’s birthday approached they had yet to clear up the whole mess. Demons were still running rampant and Dagon, though Crowley professed to have her exactly where he wanted her, was in reality still a threat.

It calmed down, though, or there were lulls. A world-ending problem seemed less and less likely as the weeks went on without the archangel tracker going off. Dean wasn’t fooled into complacency but he did start living his life as he had before that whole hellhound debacle that started it all.

Unfortunately that meant that Sam and Cas went back to normal (by their standards) as well. Sam, for his part, spent an abnormal amount of time glued to his phone, giggling like a prepubescent girl and he took one of the motorcycles out on rides more often than not. Dean was fine with it, though, he _hoped_ Sam was getting laid, fuck knew he needed it.

What Dean liked less, though, was that Cas apparently thought it was a splendid idea to bring Stan over to the bunker now and then. Dean wanted to be happy with the change because even though Cas was spending time with Stan he was at least _around_ and that was a huge improvement for Dean. But the truth was that it hurt to see Cas being so casual around someone else and Dean was bitter about it, though he tried his best not to show it.

He’d decided that he wanted to be supportive because Sam was right and if Dean didn’t want Cas to just up and leave, he would have to behave. It wasn’t Cas’ fault that Dean had figured out too late that he wanted to kiss the hell out of the angel. Wanted to be held and loved and all that fucking shit and it was _too late_. Dean had blown it and now Cas was chummy with someone else and Dean would just have to deal.

Sure, there were times when Dean felt he still might have a chance. Stolen moments and secret glances, unspoken words that drew him in, a look from Cas that almost made Dean lean forward that last inch and seal their lips together. Beg for forgiveness. Beg to be _understood_.

But then something happened, something tore them apart, figuratively or literally, and Dean was left feeling cold and bereft. His self-loathing was reaching its limit and he knew he was only a few moments more away from hitting the bottle hard, or maybe yell at Cas. He didn’t _want_ to act like an ass, he wanted to be Cas’ best friend and truth be told Stan was a really awesome guy so Dean didn’t mind his company as it were. If the circumstances were different, he was pretty sure he could have gotten along with the guy rather well.

His taste in movies was atrocious but so far that seemed to be his only flaw. He even invited Dean to watch movies with them when they occupied the man cave, even though it clearly was a date. And Dean _so_ wanted to accept and be a douche who wedged himself between them because “the couch is too small” but he couldn’t do that, not to Cas and not to himself.

So he always declined, and pretended not to see Cas’ disappointed face. He should tell Cas that the reason he wasn’t joining them wasn’t because he disliked Stan but because seeing Cas and Stan together made his shriveled heart hurt. 

At least they weren’t having sex. Sam had implied a while ago that that might be a possibility but that was before they met Stan and saw him together with Cas. Yeah, no way they were _sexually_ involved.

That was the one silver lining Dean took away from it all; he was pretty goddamn sure they weren’t the kind of couple who were banging day and night. A little hand-holding and a few closed mouth kisses, sure, but nothing more than that. Dean just didn’t see the attraction. And not in a physical sense, of course, but he just couldn’t _picture_ it. Because Cas was, well, _Cas_, awkward and not even human. And Stan was just too… timid. Well not really, that wasn’t the word. He just seemed too wholesome to be slipping his boyfriend some dick now and then. He was probably the “making love” kind of guy and to be honest Dean didn’t see their relationship like that. They weren’t _in love_, they were just fond enough of each other that it could develop into love with time. Dean was _sure_ there was nothing more to it.

Then on one day (two days before his birthday but who the fuck was counting? Wasn’t like Dean expected anything anyway), Dean entered the kitchen in the bunker only to find Stan and Cas in there. Cas was by the coffeemaker, preparing it, and Stan was standing to his right, back to Dean and the door, and his hands were… _on_ Cas.

On his lower back, skating down to his ass, and Cas was smiling to himself.

“Do you want me to mess up the coffee?” he asked, voice a low murmur that Dean had never heard before. “Let go.”

“I want you to mess _me _up,” Stan shot back, tone insinuative as hell and Dean just about died on the inside.

“In a moment,” Cas answered, twisting the knife in Dean’s insides. “But right now you’re a hindrance in the coffee making process.”

Stan chuckled and the sound was _dirty_, making Dean’s skin crawl. “I love it when you talk filth.”

He moved his hand up and into Cas’ hair, pulling at the hair at Cas’ nape and Dean felt as if he couldn’t breathe. Did Cas like to have his hair pulled like that? What more did Stan know about the angel that Dean would never know? Wasn’t _allowed_ to know.

“Enough, Stan,” Cas said then, tone stern and an eyebrow raised and oh, Dean knew that look. Righteous Angel of the Lord, Castiel. Dean’s knees felt weak and apparently so did Stan’s. “You’re misbehaving, go wait for me in my bedroom.”

A visible shudder went through Stan’s body and yeah, Dean knew _exactly_ what they would be doing in Cas’ room later, and who the boss was in bed. Guess Dean’s dorky little angel had so much more to him and Dean had been too dumb to see it, too scared to admit he wanted to see everything Cas had to offer.

Stan murmured something that made Cas smirk and then he turned around, startling badly when he noticed Dean standing there, staring straight at them. And Dean didn’t even care to try and hide his devastated face. He knew that Stan knew and he didn’t even fucking care.

Stan at least had the decency to look contrite and he hurried out of the room with a short “hi” thrown in Dean’s direction. Dean didn’t even look at him as he passed by, and he waited a few more breaths before he walked into the kitchen and right up to Cas.

He was down to his slacks and white shirts, had started walking around the bunker without his coat and sometimes, like now, even without his suit jacket. Dean didn’t like it for precisely two reasons. Number one being that it reminded him of how Lucifer had dressed when he’d pretended to be Cas while inhabiting him, and number two was because of more intimate reasons. Because Cas in less layers and with his sleeves folded up to his elbows was sexy as fuck and now that Dean had admitted to himself that he had a crush on Cas it was difficult for him to concentrate sometimes.

And now a third reason had presented itself to him. Cas was wearing less layers because it meant less to take off before sex. With Stan. Cas was having sex with Stan and Dean was a goddamn fool.

“So,” he said casually, fully aware that Cas already knew he was in the kitchen. Hell, he’d probably known from the beginning, which made Dean hurt even more to think about. “I didn’t know Stan was coming over today?”

“Oh yes, he wanted to have some coffee together” Cas switched on the coffeemaker and turned to Dean with a small smile. “He brought pie too.”

“That’s nice,” Dean’s words felt like ash in his mouth. All he could think about was Cas touching Stan _like that_.

“Yes, I mentioned your birthday is coming up and he wanted to bring your something.”

“How considerate,” Dean tried to sound happy, he really did, but fuck if he wanted to be in _Stan’s_ debt because of some lousy pie. 

Cas smiled and crossed his arms. “I thought so too.”

“You should’ve told him we don’t really celebrate birthdays,” Dean muttered, though he honestly didn’t care (or would have been happy if things were different). 

All he wanted was to shout out his feelings. To ask “how many times have you done it? How do you do it? Are you planning on doing it now? How does it make you feel?”, but he bit his tongue against those questions because he didn’t really want to know. He _didn’t_.

“I did, but he insisted,” Cas huffed out a new smile when Dean apparently succeeded in looking skeptical even though he almost wanted to cry. This wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. In fact, he didn’t want to talk to Cas at all right now. “Don’t look like that, at least I managed to talk him out of buying you flowers.”

“He’s a real outstanding guy, alright,” Dean pressed out, his tone definitely betraying him now. Cas even frowned. “Of course he’d wanna bring something sweet like that, I’m surprised he doesn’t have a freaking flower tattoo.”

“Oh he actually does,” Cas smiled widely. “Well, it’s of a garden, but still.”

Dean felt as if his heart was getting ripped out because he’d seen Stan a few times now and he’d seen no tattoo so logic stated that it had to be somewhere under his clothes and why would Cas know about it then? _Why_, unless…

“I haven’t seen one?” he almost whispered, his fears being realized before his eyes.

“It’s not exactly…” Cas didn’t blush but he looked like he was about to. “Visible.”

And there it was. This fact together with the scene Dean had just witnessed confirmed that Cas and Stan _were _bumping uglies. They weren’t just two men who liked to spend time together, perhaps until Dean got his shit together or Stan found someone else. They weren’t just hanging out and Cas wasn’t just experimenting kissing another dude. 

They were boyfriends—_lovers_—who had sex and everything was real and it hurt and Dean’s vision swam. Sam had tried to warn him, months ago, but Dean hadn’t wanted to see it then. But now it was forced on him and he felt unprepared in a frightening way. 

“Cool,” he croaked and turned on his heel, walking out before Cas could say anything more and break Dean’s already broken heart even more.

And the saddest part was that the only one he had to blame was himself so he couldn’t even wallow in self-pity.

* * *

Stan was sporting a semi by the time Cas entered his room, holding a small tray with two steaming cups of coffee in one hand. He walked over and put it down on the desk opposite the bed and Stan took a moment to admire the man’s body, only feeling marginally sleazy about it.

“I hope this is okay?” Cas asked and turned around, hands on his hips. “Dean didn’t seem interested in pie right now so I thought we could wait to share that until Sam comes back?”

Stan sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and standing to get closer to Cas. “Of course it’s okay,” he smiled, reaching to run his fingers through Cas’ soft hair. “You can save that pie for later if you want to. It was for Dean anyway.”

Stan was suddenly much more interested in something _other _than coffee and pie. Cas had been very occupied with work lately and Stan was beginning to realize that he was hungry for something more than just sweet hand-jobs and that one blowjob Cas had given him. Was hungry for seeing Cas unravel but the man seemed more interested in Stan’s reactions, not that that was _bad_ per se, but it did make Stan curious to know how much Cas was willing to give him, to see where the line went.

“It just feels odd,” Cas mumbled then, eyes on the door, and Stan took a step back, watching the man’s face. “Dean doesn’t usually decline pie.”

_“He’s worried about Dean,”_ Stan thought then, with sudden clarity. _“He’s here, with me, alone, and yet Dean is on his mind and I’m…”_ he smiled to himself, his chest tightening with bittersweet emotions. _“And I’m not even mad. I’m really not.”_

“Do you want to talk to him?” he heard himself ask and when Cas looked back at him, Stan smiled even wider, fond and supportive. “Maybe he’s sick?”

“No, I che—I would know,” Cas looked a little contrite. “I’m sorry, this isn’t a topic that interests you.”

“Cas,” Stan murmured and went in to steal a quick kiss. No matter what, he would always love Cas’ kisses. “I care about you and you care about him. Of course I want to know.”

“I…” Cas sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again they were more brilliantly blue than normal, almost as if lit by an inner source. “I’m here, with _you_.”

Stan wanted to ask “are you?” but at the same time he already knew the answer and he was okay with it, finding his own peace in Cas’ mere presence and companionship.

“And I like that,” he said instead, sincere, and put his hands on Cas’ sides, pulling him so that their lips brushed when he continued. “More than anything, I enjoy your company.”

Cas murmured something, too low for Stan to hear, and then kissed him again, much deeper and longer and Stan melted against him. Cas’ hands were strong and sure as they pleasured him, no trace of any kind of hesitance and Stan thought, not for the first time, that whatever happened he would always have moments like this and he was happy for it.

* * *

To say that Dean’s mood worsened over the following couple of weeks was an understatement.

He really wanted to be nice, wanted nothing more than to be supportive but he just _couldn’t _anymore. If only he could push rewind and go back to the days before he’d said all those stupid things that pushed Cas away he would be golden. Or if he at least could go back to the blissfully ignorant state, to those days when he knew he was slowly losing Cas to Stan but could still deal with it maturely so that Cas would at least still be his friend. That would be a good option too.

But he couldn’t, because he wasn’t ignorant anymore and everything hurt.

He woke up in the morning and his first breath hurt. His first thought was “you’re losing him, you’re a loser” and he went about his day with that on a loop in his head. It made him snap at Sam and Cas, made him botch cases, almost got himself killed by a fucking Rakshasa of all things, and in the aftermath of that shit show all he could feel was disappointment that the monster _hadn’t_ ripped his head off.

And to add injury to insult, he had to sit and play nice with Stan when Cas had him over and also that one time they went out to Tina’s Grill in Lebanon and had dinner. Dean felt like every word cut his mouth like glass, his head hurt all the time, and he was slowly dying.

Sam knew, of course, because when had that idiot _not_ managed to read Dean like an open book? That was the least of Dean’s problems, though. What was worse was that Cas seemed to also know he was feeling like shit and he was being all nice about it, as if he wasn’t the one pulling the strings this time around and was actively choosing not to pull them in Dean’s favor.

It all came to a head last week when Stan politely (the dude was so disgustingly kind all the fucking time) had asked if Dean was feeling alright. And Dean had snapped like a dried rubber band. He was pretty sure Stan was about to start crying by the end of Dean’s long and _scathing_ rendition of how _fine_ he actually was.

Sam had been the one to intervene because of course he would be a traitor, Dean was just surrounded by traitors nowadays.

He’d locked himself in his bedroom and hit the bottle hard enough to not resurface until two days later (_after_ Valentine’s Day, thank you very fucking much) when Sam came knocking with news about Crowley and Lucifer. Cas hadn’t come to check on him once that Dean knew of and that was fine, everything was so fucking fine. Because it was all Dean’s fault anyway, right? He was the only one at fault and he deserved to feel like garbage. It was _fine_.

Anyway, aside from Dean’s spiraling things were looking up for Team Free Will. In the sense that things could be worse, not that they were good in any sense of the word. Lucifer was indeed alive and _somehow_ he had managed to get himself captured by Crowley, who’d done a splendid job of keeping that information a secret.

When informed, Rowena had gone livid and Sam had holed himself up with the witch and about a ton of Men of Letters books to find a solution and as it turned out, there was one. Apparently, with the help of Cas and Rowena, Sam was confident that they could build a mechanism that would trap Lucifer’s grace, or in essence trap the archangel in the mechanism. From there, Rowena reasoned that it would be easy for her to open the Cage and for them to just deposit Lucifer back in there. Easy peasy.

Dean wasn’t convinced, but following his outburst at Stan no one was taking his opinions seriously anyway. Well, Rowena might have but Sam didn’t let Dean voice them enough for her to understand his concerns.

For now they had a more pressing matter, though. One called Dagon and her plans to take over hell. Because if she succeeded she would get to Lucifer and probably free him before Sam had finished building the mechanism (that looked suspiciously like a golden egg), and no one wanted that. It was a fine line to walk, though, playing helpful with Crowley without alerting him to why they were being _this_ helpful, considering he didn’t know they knew about Lucifer or their plans for the angel.

Their involvement in Crowley’s war with Dagon had led them to Losantville, Indiana, on a stakeout for one of her lapdog demons that at least Sam hoped would lead them to Dagon. The drive to Losantville had been the most miserable one Dean had had since last May and it all boiled down to the fact that Cas had taken a separate car _and_ booked a separate motel room, even though he didn’t even need to sleep. He was probably sexting with Stan, the asshole.

Dean didn’t want to think about it and focused all his angry energy into the case. Too bad all they did so far was research and waiting around. Like now, the three of them were outside a decrepit old building, leaned against the car while they waited for any signs of the demon (or Dagon). Crowley had called just forty minutes ago telling them the location and when they got there Cas had confirmed that it was heavily warded so they knew at least _something_ was up, which Dean supposed was good. Nothing else about this situation was good.

Dean and Cas were standing side-by-side with their backs against the Impala and Sam was half-sitting on the hood, eating a donut. Dean wished he hadn’t finished his coffee so soon because now he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to put them on Cas, and not even in a sexual way. Just maybe put his hand on Cas’ shoulder and say “hey, I know I’ve been acting like an ass but it’s just because—”, yeah and that was just it. Because _what_? And even more than his lack of knowledge of his own feelings, he was starting to feel like he’d hit the limit with his last explosion. Cas had given him many chances over the years and maybe this was it? Maybe Dean didn’t deserve any more chances now?

The wind tore at them, picking up speed, and Dean was just about to suggest they wait it out inside the car instead when Cas’ phone vibrated loudly with an incoming message. Cas looked at it quickly and smiled to himself before typing a response.

Dean rolled his eyes, his blood rushing in his ears. “Who was that, your _boyfriend_?”

Cas sighed, longsuffering, and pocketed his phone again. “Yes, it was Stan.”

“Clingy,” Dean muttered, internally screaming at himself. He didn’t _want_ to act like a high school boy with a crush on the cool older kid. He _wanted_ to be supportive, he really did.

Sam frowned slightly around his donut. “Leave him alone, we’ve been away for a couple of days, Dean.”

Dean felt betrayed all over again because Sam _knew_ how hard this was for him and how much Dean was trying his best and yet he always took Cas’ side anyway and Dean was tired of it. Tired of feeling alone even when his family was so close.

“What did he even want?”

Felt like drowning.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Cas resolutely looked anywhere but Dean and it ate Dean up. He’d done this, he’d put this wedge between them. “But he was just checking in because, as Sam mentioned, we haven’t been home in a while. I told him we were going away for work again.”

“Yeah, about that. Did you really tell him we’re in rodent and pest control?” Sam was way too encouraging in his open curiosity for Dean’s taste.

“Yes, and I elaborated a little on what you said about us helping out rangers.”

“Wow, can’t believe he bought that flimsy lie,” Dean snorted, crossing his arms against all the _hurt_. “He sure is lucky he’s pretty.”

Cas’ nostrils flared and Dean felt less satisfied that he thought he would for making the stoic angel angry. Why did he have to get so angry over Stan getting insulted anyway? Dean got insulted all the time and Cas didn’t even bat an eye. Hell, half the time it was Cas himself who was ripping Dean a new one, nowadays.

“For your information I also told him I don’t like to talk about my job since I find it both horrible and tedious and he respects me enough not to pry.”

“Seems like a good man,” Sam said with a smile but Cas’ words made Dean’s stomach drop.

“You don’t really think that,” he stated, voice a hoarse whisper as his throat closed up.

Cas rounded on him, irritation evident in the lines of his handsome face. “Don’t I? I think it’s truly horrible how many times I’ve seen you and Sam die or get injured and I certainly find this whole conversation abhorrently tedious so I would say it’s a tremendously accurate description.”

Cas stared at him and Dean valiantly held his gaze for a loaded couple of moments before the angel broke it off, walking away in a huff. Dean’s heart hammered hard and his stomach churned with nerves and self-disgust.

“Well done, Dean,” Sam said after a moment, annoyed.

Dean blinked several times, a wave of heat washing over him, buoying all his negative emotions and carrying them to the surface and making him struggle against unshed tears.

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning the other way and struggling with breathing evenly until he’d managed to compartmentalize everything again. Suppress, quash, push down. Survive.

*****

Hours later they were back at the motel and though things hadn’t gone to plan it hadn’t turned to shit either so Dean was pretty okay with how the case was turning out. Sure, Crowley had showed up after they had managed to draw out and trap the demon, and subsequently subdued Cas and snatched the demon away from them but all in all Dean didn’t care much about that, as long as it led to Dagon being defeated.

In the long run, Lucifer was the bigger problem and Sam had actually gotten a call from Rowena telling them the spell she’d been perfecting for the angel-trapping mechanism was ready for the next stage. So that was moving along quite nicely too and Dean supposed he couldn’t complain.

“I think we can call this a win and head back tomorrow,” he said as they entered his and Sam’s room, tossing his duffle bag on his bed. “What do you say we go visit that greasy diner and have some dinner before we hit the hay?”

“Sounds good,” Sam grinned and went over to the table, putting his own duffle there.

“You do that,” Cas said, standing just inside the doorway and looking less like _Cas_ and more like _Castiel_ than Dean cared to admit. “Since I require neither food nor sleep I’m gonna head back instead.”

Sam looked up, frowning, and Dean felt dread sweep over him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Cas stated clearly, meeting Sam’s eyes but not even sparing Dean a glance. “I am done here anyway.”

“Okay,” Sam said slowly, eyes darting to Dean but Dean felt too numb to do anything but stare at the wall opposite him. “If you think—”

“I do,” Cas interrupted briskly and opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that he was out of the room and Dean knew that this was it; this was how their lives would look from now on. Cas wouldn’t stop hunting with them because he had promised he would stay and do that, but he didn’t want any more to do with Dean than absolutely necessary and this was the result. Soon he would move out too, Dean was sure, and he would see even less of the angel than he already did.

“I did this,” he whispered, voice raspy with raw emotions, his soul feeling like someone had put a cheese grater to it. “I pushed him away.”

The realization hurt more than it should at this point. Simply saying it out loud made his throat burn.

“Dean,” Sam sighed and sat down heavily at the table. “You’ve got to be the stupidest genius that ever lived.”

Dean snapped his head up. “Way to kick a man when he’s down, Sammy.”

“I just,” Sam shook his head, combing his fingers through his unruly hair. “How come you’re so smart when it comes to mechanical stuff and hunts and stuff like that but you couldn’t even figure out that you’re in love with Cas until he moved on?”

“In lov—” Dean spluttered and went over to his bed, hands shaking. “It doesn’t matter what I have or haven’t realized, not anymore. He’s made his choice.”

“No, Dean,” Sam said then, voice surprisingly unhappy. “_You_ pushed him into making choices for both of you and I think you should take a good look at where this is leading to, for _all_ of us.”

“Jesus, Sam, it’s not fucking _easy_.”

“I know it’s not,” Sam murmured, tone soft, getting up and going over to the bathroom. “But only you can make it easier for yourself. In the end I think you need to consider what you want Cas to see when he looks at you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Sam sighed, puppy eyes boring into Dean’s battered soul. “Either you get your shit together and tell him you want to be his lover, or you resign yourself to expressing your love as a _platonic_ best friend. Or,” he looked down, a sad look washing over his face. “You lose him forever.”

With that he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly and Dean sank down on the bed, head in hands and trembling all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up, the next chapter will be pivotal ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
Until next week!   
Your most pathetic servant,  
zation


	8. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early chapter! This time not so much because of work but because I wanted to and could lol  
Heads up for angst and feelings ♥ Also heads up for me using song lyrics in some lines of important conversations, let me know if you spot them and which song you think it could be! (yes, I had way too much fun lmao)
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy the chapter!   
This is for you, Elisa ( ˘ ³˘)♥

“Thank you,” Castiel gratefully accepted the cup of tea when Stan returned to the couch in his living room. “It smells very good.”

“I added honey,” Stan winked and settled on the couch too, a steaming cup of his own in hand. 

That made Castiel smile and he took a sip (pretended to be careful about it as if the hot water could harm him), humming at the sweet taste. Yes, he’d definitely gotten the hang of drinking like a regular human and he was able to enjoy both taste and texture and tea was one of his favorite beverages, more than the grueling coffee Sam and Dean insisted on drinking. 

He felt his muscles relax, his grace travelling leisurely through him, and he let his massive, broken wings unfold over the couch’s back. Though he couldn’t stretch them completely in the small room it still felt good to flex them and he hummed again, leaning back against the couch.

“This is calming,” he said after a moment, when he noticed Stan observing him. “I needed this.”

“I can imagine,” Stan said with a fond smile. “Your work seems to take a lot out of you.”

After the hunt for Dagon, the three of them had met up with Crowley to negotiate demands because of course it wouldn’t be as easy as one might think. Crowley always wanted more, he was a demon after all and inherently greedy, and mere revenge on Dagon and her followers weren’t enough. He was getting cocky too, most probably emboldened by him capturing Lucifer. Castiel only hoped Sam and Rowena’s plan would work out, and preferably before Lucifer escaped. Because escape he would, Castiel had no doubt about that. He had great respect for Crowley’s power and influence and intellect but Lucifer was Lucifer and after having shared a vessel for so long Castiel had developed a sense of understanding for the archangel. 

“I might be going away again soon,” he mumbled, slumping down on the couch so he could rest his head back, wings folding behind him once again. “We have unfinished business.”

“I’m sorry,” Stan murmured, sounding sincere. Castiel rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Lately you seem more tired, I wish you could take a vacation.”

Castiel almost chuckled. A vacation from hunting? What a silly notion. 

He turned his head and smiled kindly at Stan, thinking he was lucky to have found such a great friend in this human. He’d asked Stan don’t question him about his work and even though the man’s soul shone with concern, there was no curiosity there. Stan respected his wishes and Castiel felt safe with the man. Safe enough to express himself.

“It’s not so much work that’s tiring,” he heard himself say slowly. It wasn’t _entirely_ true, this thing with Lucifer and Crowley was exhausting but other than that he enjoyed hunting in its basic form. 

“It’s Dean,” Stan filled in when Castiel found himself unable to voice his troubles.

Castiel sighed and took another sip of his tea, looking straight ahead at the black TV. Ever since they got back from their hunt in Indiana, Dean had been acting strange. No, now that Castiel thought about it, Dean had started acting stiff and unwelcoming since before that, probably since around his birthday. When Stan had come over with a pie, come to think about it. Perhaps he didn’t enjoy spontaneous visits like that? Castiel could see why, considering their line of work and the safe haven the bunker represented. Sam had only thought it was a fun surprise but now that Castiel thought about it, Stan had been acting slightly different since that visit too...

“I feel bad talking to you about this,” he admitted after a while, comforted by Stan’s silent encouragement. 

“Don’t, honey,” Stan said softly, putting his tea on the coffee table and shuffling closer on the couch, hand on Castiel’s arm. “I want you to be able to talk to me about anything.”

And Heaven help him, part of Castiel felt as if he could. 

“This whole situation with Dean is getting unbearable,” he said, voice low with repressed emotions. “One moment he’s the Dean I know and love and in the next he’s cold and distant. I never know what will trigger him and it’s making me weary.”

“I understand,” Stan murmured and there was something in his tone that made Castiel’s grace reach out and wrap around the man’s soul. It was wistful and swirling restlessly and Castiel knew he was the source of that pain, knew that he shouldn’t be talking about this because it would upset Stan, who was supposed to be Castiel’s boyfriend. 

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed again. Stan was _supposed_ to be his _boyfriend_ and yet, lately…

“I’m sorry, I’m… stressed,” he said that last word with no small amount of trepidation. He wasn’t actually sure he’d ever been stressed in this sense before. He didn’t like it.

“Cas,” Stan squeezed his arm so make Castiel look at him. “If you ever need to get out of your home for a while you can always come and stay with me, you know that, right?” he looked so earnest, his soul bright with conviction. “Even if it’s just for a night, or longer. You can stay here with me or… or in the guestroom.”

Oh. Castiel looked at Stan, let his grace _really_ feel the man’s soul. Oh, Stan was clever. Far more perceptive than Castiel had given him credit for and he wished not for the first time he could just fall truly in love with this man. Stan was intelligent, handsome and kind, how easy wouldn’t Castiel’s life be if he could just form it with Stan?

But Stan’s soul betrayed more than perhaps the man even knew himself and Castiel thought that there were many kinds of love, if nothing else his time with Dean and Sam had shown him that. 

“Thank you, Stan,” he smiled, putting his hand over the man’s. “That means a lot.”

“_You_ mean a lot, Cas,” Stan said, a small smile on his own lips, his words making Castiel’s grace sing with gratitude. “You mean a lot.”

* * *

Ever since their hunt for Dagon the atmosphere in the bunker had been toxic, for lack of a better word. Dean’s nerves were frayed and he lashed out more than usual, the knowledge that Cas was having sex and being all lovey dovey with _Stan_ eating him up and he knew no productive way of expressing those emotions so it all came out in small bursts of spiteful actions and words. 

Sam kept telling him that he was blowing his chances, the last of his bridges going up in smoke, but Dean couldn’t stop. The destructive downward spiral he was in swallowed him and he was clawing for air even as it pulled him deeper under. And Cas… Cas _knew_, Dean could see on the angel’s tired face that he knew Dean was acting like this because he was desperate but he made no move to help him. 

No, Cas had stretched out his hand in reconciliation for the last time and now Dean was left to fend for himself. Scared and desperate, he flailed wildly in any direction but found no solid ground and now Cas had given up completely. 

“I’m leaving to live with Stan,” he’d said earlier today when he came back from a supply run down to Lebanon. “I’ve thought it over ever since he offered and I think it’s the best decision, for all of us.”

Dean had felt like he’d swallowed acid.

“What?”

Cas had heaved the bags with stuff from the hardware store onto the map table where Dean and Sam had been sitting. In his other hand was an obviously newly purchased suitcase and the sight of it had made Dean’s throat close up.

“I said; Stan offered to let me live with him and I was going to decline but after thinking it over I changed my mind.”

Sam had snuck a glance at Dean but Dean had felt petrified, his blood running cold.

“When?” Sam’d asked, tone careful as if he’d been afraid that Dean would fly off the handle. “When are you…?”

“Now,” Cas had answered calmly. “I just need to pack.”

And that, of course, really _had _made Dean fly off the handle.

The resulting discussion had been heated and many mean words had been uttered that they would all regret later, hell Dean was already eating himself up over things he’d said. But no matter of yelling or pleading could sway Cas now, apparently. He was set on leaving to live with his fucking _boyfriend_ and Dean’s worst fears were coming true. 

Cas getting a boyfriend meant spending less time with them (with Dean), Cas leaving to live with said boyfriend would mean they (Dean) would see even less of him and eventually he could possibly fade completely out of their (Dean’s) lives forever. 

Dean couldn’t breathe, his lungs feeling as if they were collapsing while his emotions ballooned within him, taking all of the space and leaving him with no hope of survival. Not on his own, not without his angel. 

“Why the fuck aren’t you saying anything?!” he screamed at Sam when Cas turned away in a huff but Sam only gave Dean a highly unimpressed glare.

“Because I have said how I feel and this conversation is over.”

Dean was so angry he was shaking and he stared at his little brother who was just fucking _sitting_ there, calm as a cucumber while Cas was leaving the room. No, leaving _them_. Fuck, Cas was _leaving_.

He set off, following Cas’ broad back as the angel walked out of the war room. He heard Sam shout “you have to let him go, Dean” but he didn’t care one bit. Why did he have to do that anyway? Why was _Dean_ the one who had to make all the sacrifices? 

“So what the hell are we gonna do about hunts?” he said harshly just as Cas veered off into his room.

“Same as before, I’d imagine,” Cas stated, still so infuriatingly calm. 

“It won’t be the same,” Dean snapped, standing in the doorway and looking on helplessly as Cas put the suitcase on his bed, opening it. “You should be _here_.”

“For easy access, yes I heard you,” Cas answered and walked over to his desk. He wasn’t meeting Dean’s eyes. 

“Not just for that, I—”

“Dean, before last May I didn’t live here either. This will be like then; you’ll call me and I’ll come at the earliest convenience, if you really need me to.”

Dean was so angry he was shaking all over. “Do you think that’s all we need you for? Hunts?”

“Isn’t it?” Cas asked, genuinely surprised, and he turned to look Dean straight in the eye and somehow that was worse. “Do you mean to say you need me for something else, Dean?”

Dean worked his jaw for a moment, the words at the tip of his tongue but fear gripped his insides, his feelings of inadequacy choking him. 

“How are you even gonna sustain a relationship with someone so _normal_?” he asked instead, tone cruel. “He can’t fill your needs.”

Cas’ eyes turn hard as steel. “And neither can you, Dean,” he walked over to the suitcase, throwing in books and what little knickknacks he’d collected over the months. “_That’s_ why I’m leaving and I think you know that. I need more from you but you’ve shut yourself off emotionally and I’ve had enough.”

Dread washed over Dean. So Cas _did_ know and yet he still chose to…

“Fine!” Dean spat, vicious as he stalked into the room. “Do what you’re good at and leave then, it’s what you usually do when shit gets tough. It’s not like you’d ever want me anyway so what the fuck does it matter how I feel?”

That made Castiel round on him, his grace making his eyes light up in his anger. 

“Don’t you ever say_ I _just walked away, _ever_,” Cas looked livid and something within Dean shriveled up. “I will always want you, Dean. You’re the righteous man and I’m your guardian angel, _me_,” he slammed his suitcase shut, the sound loud. “All I wanted was for you to let me in and if you couldn’t love me back the same then that was fine, as long as you _let me in_. I only ever wanted to see you,” he shook his head, sad and resigned suddenly, not angry anymore and Dean was shaking with how much this pained him.

“So you’re saying all this is _my_ fault?” he asked, voice growly with how hurt he felt and Cas sighed deeply.

“I’m saying that even though you’re _right here_ you won’t give me an inch and I’m tired. You have to let me go.”

With that he picked up his suitcase and walked around Dean, headed for the door. Dean remained by the bed for a moment, frozen in place by his own crippling self-disgust and the knowledge that he was pushing Cas further away. Whatever he did now it was too late and none of it mattered anyway, because Cas couldn’t _see_, not like Dean needed him to and Dean couldn’t… simply _couldn’t_…

“Do whatever the fuck you want then!” he roared, rushing after Cas as the angel made his way through the war room. His suddenly loud tone startled Sam, who jerked in his chair, but Cas didn’t even turn to look at him because of course he didn’t. Because Dean didn’t mean shit to him, apparently. Cas had saved him from hell but that had all been because Dean was just a pawn to the angels, hadn’t it? “Fucking leave,” he continued harshly, following Cas up the stairs. “I wouldn’t miss you anyway, no one fucking will!”

“I know!” Cas exclaimed then, whipping around so fast that his coat tails almost slapped Dean in the face. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment, panting and angry, but as the meaning of his words sunk in, Dean started to regret a lot of the shit he’d said. What the fuck was he doing? He was so afraid of Cas walking away and never looking back that he was fucking pushing him out the door. Cas had every right to be angry and sad and to feel betrayed. 

Dean was the first to avert his eyes, shame making him bow his head, and Cas snorted at him and turned on his heel, leaving Dean standing half-way up the stairs. The bunker’s heavy door creaked as loudly as it usually did but this time the sound made Dean’s soul feel like a raw and exposed nerve.

But at the sound of it slamming shut his body booted up again and he stared wildly down at Sam, who was still at the map table, eyes big. 

“There’s time,” he heard himself say, voice distance and wispy. 

“Dean, I don’t think…”

“I’ve got time!” he didn’t hear Sam’s response to that, his boots making a racket as he flew up the stairs and ripped open the door.

It was raining outside, even though it was sunny and bright, the rain the slow kind of trickle that sometimes occurred in the middle of the summer, even though it wasn’t even spring yet. Dean’s breath made a puff of white appear in front of his face as he hastened up the slippery stone steps but he didn’t see it.

All he could see was Cas, standing there in the light drizzle, the sunlight shining down on him. Cas, who was loading his suitcase into the backseat of one of the bunker cars, the same one he’d taken when he drove into town to get supplies. Dean wondered briefly if he’d planned this all along or if it had been a spur of the moment decision brought on from a sign that offered half price on ugly suitcases or something equally arbitrary.

“Dean,” Cas sighed even before Dean had said anything. He shut the car door with a loud thud and turned around just as Dean reached him, a tired look on his handsome face. “You _have to_ let me go, please.”

Dean stared wildly at him, pulse pumping not so much because he had hurried to catch up to Cas, and not even because he was scared he wouldn’t be in time. 

“I can’t.” 

Under no circumstances could Cas leave in this moment, Dean knew that for sure. Knew it as certain as he knew the sun would set in the evening. If Cas left now, he would not be returning, not in the same extent, not even if Stan broke up with him.

“Why?” Cas asked, tone suffering and Dean panicked. 

Cas was already tired of hearing about Dean’s shit, Cas didn’t _care_ anymore. Cas was _done_.

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” he yelled, adrenaline pumping through him and making his voice break. It wasn’t only rain making his cheeks wet now and fuck it, fuck _everything_. “I fucking need you, Cas.”

Cas’ eyes widened, making him look almost frightened and utterly human, the rain making his lashes clump together as it picked up speed and washed down on Cas’ face. 

“Dean?”

He was leaning back, as if to get away and it about broke Dean. His chest swelled with desperation, his throat aching as he tried to get himself together to speak properly.

“I mean it, okay?” his tone was still too frantic for Cas to take him seriously, he could see that. And no wonder, after what he’d said to the angel just minutes ago. “Please, I know I’ve been an ass,” he waved behind himself, indicating the bunker and Cas’ eyes flicked briefly over to it. Dean took the opportunity to take another step closer, reaching out and lightly grabbing Cas’ arm. “But please don’t leave me, I _need_ you.”

Cas’ eyes softened and Dean saw all the hurt in there, everything he was feeling was reflected back to him and it was almost more than he could take.

“Dean, I’m…”

Dean tightened his grip, stepping even closer. “No, Cas listen. I-I know I haven’t…” fuck it was hard to think, his mind too jumbled and distraught to be able to convey what he needed properly. Cas opened his mouth as if to say something and Dean’s heart lodged in his throat. “I’m scared,” he blurted out, interrupting Cas. “I’m scared of this gigantic fucking thing that’s… I dunno, that’s been _growing _between us. I’m scared of what it means but I’m…” he squeezed Cas’ arm. “I’m more scared of losing you.”

Cas drew a sharp breath. Behind him the rain smattered down on the roof of the ugly car he’d chosen but the sun was still trickling through the clouds and it made the wet metal shine.

“Do you mean…?”

“I mean it all, Cas,” Dean rasped, coming impossibly close, so close that he could almost touch Cas’ nose with his own. “Please don’t give up on me. I’ll give you anything you ask of me from now on if you _please_ just stay here with _me_. I know I’m flawed, I know I’m not good enough for you, but I can’t _bear _to think of you with another man. Or woman, or _person_,” his voice wavered, lips trembling as he poured his heart out, scared shitless. “Please stay here and be mine.”

Cas raised his hand, fingers touching Dean’s wet cheek lightly, mixing tears with rain. “Dean…”

That one word, his name breathed with such reverence, kicked Dean’s senses into gear and he swayed forward, connecting his lips with Cas’. His whole being surged forward and Cas made a hitching sound at the back of his throat when he obviously felt it, felt the yearning in that one act.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, feeling fraught and feverish, desperate to connect with Cas on all levels. He made a broken sound when Cas didn’t immediately push him off and when he felt the angel’s hands on his sides, Dean’s dead heart thumped tentatively to life. 

Time seemed to stand still for a moment and then Cas pushed into the kiss.

A feeling of completion washed over Dean when Cas moved his lips against his, kissing him back, and in that kiss Dean felt a similar yearning in Cas. They moved together, lips pressing and noses bumping, breathing ragged as they broke apart and came together again and again. Their movements became faster, urgent, the rain slowing to a drizzle again as the sun broke through the clouds and when Dean cupped Cas’ stubbled cheeks he felt a sense of wonderment inside him. 

“Dean,” Cas mumbled again when they eventually slowed down, foreheads leaning together as Dean tried to gather his wits. “Dean, I-I need you too. I have… for _so long_, I have longed...”

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, eyes closed and voice raspy again. Droplets of rain ran down his face, over his racing pulse, making him shiver. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Cas said gently, moving his hands to hug Dean closely, their knees knocking together. “Be determined, be confident, be _mine_.”

“Yes, Cas,” Dean mumbled, nodding his head, letting his tears fall freely now. “Yes, I’m yours.”

Cas nodded too and slowly, Dean’s tightly strung body began relaxing. It still hurt, everything, his bones and muscles and heart, but here in Cas’ arms it was starting to feel okay. Felt like the hurt was part of being alive and he let out a shuddering breath as he dared open his eyes.

“I’m still sorry, though.”

Cas quirked his lips in a barely there smile and it made Dean’s knees weak. “I know, and you should be.”

Dean nodded again, leaning in to bury his face against Cas’ neck. “Please don’t leave.”

Cas shushed him gently, hands strong and sure on Dean’s back as he stroked him slowly, soothing him with both his touches and his grace. The rain was tapering off but they’d managed to get wet enough that Dean started shivering, although he supposed that was more because of emotions rather than the cold. 

“You hurt me,” Cas stated after a while, his tone less accusatory than Dean thought it should be but still very serious. “Don’t do it again.”

_Don’t change your mind_, was what Cas was saying and Dean got it. With how he had acted lately it was no wonder that Cas was concerned. He pulled out of his hiding spot and looked at Cas, _really_ looked at him. Less of an angel and more a man in this moment, Cas looked back at him with trepidation Dean thought he deserved. 

“I won’t,” he stated clearly, and felt proud at how sincere he was. “I want you.”

Cas’ eyes darted over Dean’s face, searching for cracks in the foundation and Dean let him look, a sudden peace coming over him. There was a small flash in Cas’ eyes, his grace peeking out again, and Dean hoped Cas used it to read his mind, or his soul or whatever. Wanted Cas to look and see, wanted to make up for years spent in darkness.

“I believe you,” Cas stated eventually and Dean sagged a little, relief washing over him.

“Cas,” he murmured, a soft smile dancing on his lips. “I know I’m a weak piece of shit, I know I don’t know how to compromise, but if you’d let me try I’ll do anything to make you stay.”

Cas was trailing the fingers of one hand over Dean’s cheek and neck, the other hand steady on his back, holding Dean close. 

“Please don’t show your dedication to this by pushing yourself down,” he said gently. “I already know everything about you, Dean. I know all your cracks and blemishes and I love you all the more for them, it was you who refused to look past your own flaws, not me.”

Dean felt like fucking crying again. He reached up with a trembling hand to brush his fingers through Cas’ rain damp hair, to distract himself and simply because he could. 

“Can… can we go inside? I want to…” he didn’t know what he wanted. Reassurance that Cas wasn’t leaving after all, mostly. 

But Cas shook his head, making Dean’s stomach swoop unpleasantly. “I can’t, not yet.”

“What? I don’t understand, I—”

Cas captured his lips again, the first kiss initiated by him and not Dean, and it was hauntingly beautiful, terrifying in what it meant and how much Dean wanted it. No, how much he _needed_ it. 

“I need to go, for a little while,” Cas murmured when they broke apart and Dean’s heart almost broke. Had he been too late after all? Did Cas want this but only after time away from Dean? He didn’t think he would be able to handle— “Stop that,” Cas smiled a little and swiped his thumb along Dean’s lower lip, stopping the trembling. “I want to do this with you but only if we do it right, do you understand? I need to talk to Stan.”

Dean felt a surge of jealousy flare up but it was short-lived when he realized what Cas meant.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah that seems right.”

Cas looked pleased and a shiver went through Dean. _This_ was how he wanted Cas to look, _this_ was the expression he wanted to put on his handsome face, every day. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, Dean. Stan is very special to me and I don’t want my first time with you to be marred by the fact that I would be cheating on him. I want you and me to have a clean start.”

Dean huffed out a shaky smile, the mere thought of sex with Cas both exciting and scary, although he knew Cas was talking about more than just sex.

“Yeah, I get it,” his smile grew when Cas looked pleased like that again. “Just… just promise you’ll come back to me.”

Cas’ features instantly softened. “Always,” he said with conviction and took Dean gently by the neck, bringing him in for a new kiss, one that made Dean’s body light up. 

Dean almost moaned, desperate for Cas in more ways than one, and he kissed Cas back, eagerly tasting the angel’s lips and wishing for more. He was shit at words and he’d put his everything into what had been said here so he was beyond exhausted now and he just wanted to lie down with Cas and have the angel hold him.

But at the same time he understood why Cas wanted to talk to Stan first and he respected the hell out of Cas for it, and that was the reason he broke off the kiss before either of them could slip the other tongue because he was pretty damn sure he would be lost once Cas’ tongue dominated him into a puddle of pliant submission. But fuck it was hard to tear himself away.

“Go,” he said breathless. “You need to…”

Cas nodded, seemingly in a similar state. “Yes, I’ll,” he cleared his throat, almost looking contrite for a moment. “I need to do this immediately,” he stated, almost to himself, and then looked Dean straight in the eyes, smiling softly. “I’ll go talk to him and I won’t rush it so I’m not sure how long it will take.”

Dean nodded too, hands clenching on Cas’ coat. “Just as long as you come back to me.”

Cas kissed him once, quickly. “Always,” he repeated, holding Dean close for a moment, breathing him in.

A few moments later Dean stood by the stairs to the bunker door, Cas’ suitcase in hand and a probably forlorn look on his face as he watched Cas drive away. A sense of _what the actual fuck?_ came over him as soon as Cas was out of sight but the feeling only lasted a moment and it made him smile. He turned around with a spring in his step but his shoulders instantly slumped when his eyes landed on the quiet bunker door. 

Dealing with Sam after all this and without Cas was going to be hell…

* * *

Castiel felt so shaken up that he wouldn’t have been able to drive safely if he had been a mere human. As it was, his grace helped steady him, coursing through him and into his every limb, calming the tremors.

He couldn’t _believe_ what had just happened between him and Dean. A part of him was too cynical to believe this would last and another part couldn’t stop imagining so much more. His lips tingled and he smiled to himself, brushing the pads of his fingers against them as he waited at a red light.

Dean had kissed him. _Kissed_ him. Because he didn’t want Castiel to leave him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Dean hadn’t kissed him as a way to keep Castiel, as if he believed sexual intercourse would be the only thing that mattered. Dean had done it because it had been his way of showing how sincere he was. Little did he know that his soul had betrayed most of his feelings right from the start. 

But oh, to hear him express them! To feel his soul reach for Castiel’s grace, to have Dean’s hands and lips on his body. Castiel had been in Heaven.

In Dean’s presence it was easy to feel at peace but now, though, driving away from the man, the cynical part of him was slowly taking over. What if he broke it off with Stan and came back to the bunker only to find that Dean had changed his mind after all?

“He wouldn’t do that,” Castiel mumbled to himself as he parked on the curb outside Stan’s little house. “Not this time.”

His grace swirled pleasantly as if in agreement and that made Castiel feel stronger, although his legs still trembled a little as he exited the car and walked up Stan’s short driveway. Anxiousness wasn’t a state Castiel had experienced much outside of Dean and Sam being in danger (the Mark of Cain came to mind) and he wasn’t especially keen on the feeling. 

He realized with startling clarity just as he rang Stan’s doorbell that he was nervous now not only because of what might happen between him and Dean when he got back, but because he was nervous about losing Stan. In the few months they’d been together, the man had become very precious to Castiel and he was getting scared now that breaking off any romantic ties with him might mean Stan never wanted to see Castiel ever again, and the thought hurt.

No time to change his mind now, though (and he didn’t want to), because Stan was already opening the door, a surprised look on his face.

“Cas?”

“I’m sorry for coming over uninvited.”

Stan smiled and beckoned Castiel inside. “Don’t worry, you’re always welcome here.”

Castiel hoped that would still be true after everything. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No, no,” Stan turned to him when he’d closed the door and Castiel realized this would normally have been the moment they would kiss as a way of greeting. Castiel’s grace curled anxiously but Stan saved him by walking ahead of him into the house instead. “I’ve just gotten back from work so good timing, actually.”

“Good,” Castiel murmured, following with his head bowed. “That’s good, I wanted to talk to you.”

But he didn’t know where to begin. Stan knew a lot about Castiel’s situation with Dean, of course, so he supposed the direct approach would be best but somehow the words stuck in his mouth. It felt like an awful betrayal, what he and Dean had just done, and at the same time it was the single greatest moment in Castiel’s long life and he found that he wanted to share it with Stan, simply because he loved Stan and valued his opinion. 

He looked up when Stan stopped and turned to him and judging by his look he had asked Castiel something and was waiting for an answer. Castiel felt himself mentally flail. 

“Cas,” Stan said, eyes soft and he walked over to take Cas’ hand. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Castiel pressed out. Was he breaking out in cold sweat? The last time that had happened to him he’d been verging on humanity and sick. His grace felt frazzled. “Yes.”

Stan opened his mouth to say something but closed it almost immediately. He stepped closer, looking into Castiel’s eyes and Castiel mentally willed him to understand. His wings rustled restlessly, the pain almost making him wince before his grace rushed to take it away. That made him sweat again.

“Are you hot? You look a little feverish,” Stan smiled suddenly and oh, that sight calmed Castiel. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sweat before.”

“Something happened,” Castiel stated suddenly, drawing strength from Stan’s concerned for him. “Dean, he…”

Stan pulled in a breath, straightening, a somber expression coming over him.

“He confessed his love for you?”

How could that be Stan’s first guess? Had they been that obvious? “He kissed me,” Castiel rasped, his conflicting emotions warring inside him.

“I see,” Stan said and actually smiled a little, cupping Cas’ cheeks. “But did he _confess_?”

“He…” Castiel thought back to everything Dean had said, every nuanced word playing in his mind on a loop. “He said… Yes he did.”

Stan made a small sound but before Castiel could refocus back on the man’s face Stan had pulled him into a crushing hug. 

“I’m happy for you,” he said, somehow sounding sincere and sad at the same time. 

Castiel raised his arms hesitantly, hugging Stan back. “I don’t understand?”

Stan was taking this much better than Castiel had expected. Perhaps they had never really been in a relationship to begin with? That thought made Castiel a little sad, unexpectedly. 

Stan sighed and pulled out of the hug, taking Castiel’s hand again to lead him into the kitchen. 

“I know, and I hardly understand it myself,” he smiled kindly when Castiel no doubt looked confused. “I just… I really enjoy spending time with you and perhaps with time it could have developed into something but… We’ve been together for almost six months and we haven’t slept together once. Hell, we haven’t even done anything remotely sex related since Valentine’s. You didn’t wonder why?”

Cas tilted his head to the side, regarding Stan as he leaned against the kitchen counter, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Because you asked me to wait, because you were feeling shaken up because of your ex-boyfriend. And because I…”

Stan nodded when Castiel trailed off, realizing what he was about to say.

“Because you wanted to honor my wishes, and because you were still hung up on Dean. It felt wrong touching another man, didn’t it?”

“Not…” Castiel’s grace pounded through him. “Not _wrong_.”

“Not enough, then,” Stan nodded at his own words. “You enjoyed me but not as much as you might have, if you hadn’t been thinking of someone else.”

“I never thought about Dean when I was with you,” Castiel said, tone serious but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he doubted them. Hadn’t he? He wanted to say no, at least not when he and Stan were in a sexual situation but suddenly he couldn’t remember clearly. “I am truly sorry if I made you feel like that.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Stan said, smiling again and Castiel really thought the man was too lenient with him. “I knew from the beginning what I was getting myself into, you were open about your feelings for Dean and your situation, I wasn’t fooled once.”

Castiel frowned. “So you prepared yourself for this eventuality from the beginning?” that didn’t necessarily sit well with him.

“Well,” Stan said, almost a little apologetically. “I kind of had to. And after I saw you and Dean together I knew that it was only a matter of time,” he chuckled when Castiel’s confusion came back full force. “Any idiot could see he was head over heels for you.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Castiel asked, voice low and Stan shrugged one shoulder.

“Because I was selfish, I wanted you for myself. If I’m being completely honest I’ve been unsure if I would be able to fall completely for you or if I was just using you to get over James. To make myself feel desirable and to get back in the game,” Stan looked down, his face falling a little. “And I’ve been feeling bad about that.”

Castiel considered his words for a moment, grace pulsating with his unsteady emotions. 

“I suppose that’s fair,” he said after a moment, finding that he was actually feeling better after hearing that. “Considering how I most likely used you to try and get over Dean.”

Stan chuckled again and Castiel dared for the first time that day to reach out with his grace and touch the man’s soul. What he found made his grace smooth out with calmness. Stan’s soul, though smudged with some melancholy, was for the most part bright and happy. 

“And honestly, I think I didn’t say anything for the same reason I suspect Sam didn’t. He’s been living with you two this whole time and he’s no fool but he didn’t push you because he knew you needed to figure this out for yourselves,” Stan smiled, widely and genuinely. “Your love is yours, you know?”

Castiel’s grace tugged at him and he walked up to Stan, wrapping his arms around the man in a tighter, more secure hug than the last one. Nose to Stan’s shoulder, he breathed in the man’s sweet scent as Stan hugged him tightly back. 

“Thank you.”

“You too, Cas,” Stan murmured. “I found myself again after James because of you. I mean,” he looked gently at Castiel when they pulled apart. “There are a lot of aspects to this but I believe you played a big part in making me feel better. I hope… I hope you and Dean getting together won’t mean we can’t still see each other? As friends?”

That made Castiel grin widely, his grace soaring. “I would like that.”

“And Dean? Do you think he would like having me around?”

That made Castiel strangely excited to think about. Dean could be possessive and jealous and just imagining all the ways that could play out now that they were together made his body light up and his grace curl enticingly. 

“I can handle Dean.”

“I imagine so,” Stan grinned and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, where do we go from here? Do you have to leave?”

“I…” Castiel felt a slight tremor go through him. All the tension from before leaving him and the loss making him a little shaky in a different way. This would mean he was free to go home and fall into Dean’s arms. “I feel bad for springing this on you.”

“Cas,” Stan said, tone soft. “I’m not gonna lie, I _am _gonna miss having you as my boyfriend, but I told you; I was kind of anticipating this. Whatever happened, I want you to know you made me happy. I don’t regret our time together.”

“I feel the same.”

Stan nodded, seemingly content with that answer, and leaned back against the kitchen island. The same island Castiel had kissed him against. A part of him experienced a brief burst of sadness at the memory, or the knowledge that that was not something that would ever happen again; that he wasn’t allowed anymore.

A much bigger part of him recognized that sadness as nervousness. Because he and Stan were really over and that opened up so many opportunities for him and _Dean_ and Heaven help him, Castiel didn’t know where to begin.

“It’s okay though, Cas. Really, I’m not gonna pretend that I’m not sad at all, but I’m also glad for your sake,” Stan frowned suddenly as he looked at Castiel, his soul telling Castiel that he was concerned, no doubt because Castiel abruptly started sweating again. “But anyway, we can talk more later. You should be with Dean right now, shouldn’t you?”

He should, he really should. Dean needed him and Castiel needed the man more than anything in the world and it dawned on him how scared he was that things with Dean wouldn’t work out. Everything suddenly felt huge.

“I…” he lifted his hands, looking at them shaking and felt vulnerable in a way he hadn't for a long time.

“Oh honey,” Stan said, his big hands enveloping Castiel’s and stopping the trembling. “I know. I know it’s tough,” he pulled on Castiel, led him to one of the bar stools by the kitchen island. “Sit down, let me make you something to eat.”

“Yes,” Castiel mumbled, wings flexing restlessly behind him. “Food sounds good.”

“Food is always good,” Stan said with a smile as he walked over to the fridge. “Especially after a breakup, even if that breakup ended extremely well. And you know what?” he threw Castiel a wink. “Food is also great when you’re nervous about starting a new relationship with the man of your dreams.”

Castiel slumped in his seat, arms on the kitchen island as he watched Stan move around the kitchen with practiced ease. He felt amazed and calmed at how well Stan seemed to read him and Castiel felt grateful that he hadn’t lost the man’s friendship. Stan still wanted to be in his life regardless of the months of doubt Castiel had apparently put him through. The thought made him frown as his grace hissed at the thought of hurting Stan. The man’s soul seemed to be at peace but that could change, Castiel knew.

“You were too good for me anyway,” he mumbled, looking steadfastly at Stan when the man peeked curiously at him. “You deserve better.”

“I think we were exactly what we both deserved at that point in our lives,” Stan stated briskly and pulled out a knife and a cutting board, putting it beside vegetables he’d brought out of the fridge.

Castiel watched him bustle around the kitchen some more, preparing some kind of chicken casserole. 

“Would you want me to erase your memories of me?” he asked after a while, tone casual to hide his seriousness. 

His question made Stan burst out laughing, however, and the sound pulled at Castiel’s lips too.

“That _would_ be a quick-fix, wouldn’t it?” Stan asked, shaking his head while still smiling. Castiel’s fingers twitched as his grace gathered, preparing to execute the command. “But I told you; I feel like I’ve grown from my experiences with you and I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he turned to Castiel, giving him a beatific smile. “I love you, Cas. I’m not _in_ love with you, but I still fell helplessly for you and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The words took Castiel a little by surprise, but no more than how brightly Stan’s soul shone. He felt his grace respond and he smiled wholeheartedly back. 

“Thank you, Stan,” he said and Stan winked, turning back to the casserole.

A comfortable silence settled between them and Castiel watched with fond eyes as Stan cooked them dinner, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time and finding that he believed it wouldn’t be. He felt his grace settle happily, making him feel contented for the first time in a long time. He had gained a truly great friend in Stan and Dean had professed his love while crying, what more could Castiel ask for?

*****

Castiel ended up staying much later than he had planned to, especially considering that it was a work night for Stan. But the food had been good, the company better, and Castiel had felt so relaxed and pliant that when Stan had leaned in for a goodnight kiss he had allowed it, even though his grace reared against the thought. 

“I just wanted one last kiss,” Stan had murmured as he pulled away, eyes glinting with mischief. “I deserved _that_.”

And Castiel, thinking that Dean had kissed him more than once (and Castiel had kissed him back several times), hadn’t argued that, though he promised himself it was the last time. Judging from Stan’s amused grin the man felt the same, and so Castiel wasn’t the least worried about that. 

The bunker was quiet and seemingly empty when Castiel eventually returned and though it was late, it felt odd in a sense. The Impala was in the garage but the motorcycle Sam had favored lately was missing so Castiel supposed Sam was out and the reason for the quiet was that Dean had gone to bed already. Well, Castiel _had _told him that he didn’t know how long he would be gone so that Dean had opted to go to sleep seemed like a sound idea in light of the emotionally stressful day they had had. 

Didn’t mean Castiel didn’t feel a little disappointed as he made his way silently to his own room, though. His own nerves felt raw and exposed and he thought that a good night of meditating would do wonders for him and his tired grace. Just as he opened the door to his room he noticed two things.

One, Dean had meticulously put Castiel’s every little thing back in place. And two, Dean was wide awake in his own room a few doors down. 

The last part made him pause and he took half a step out into the hallway just as Dean opened his own door and shuffled out. He was in a t-shirt and sweats, the usual outfit for him and Sam when they were about to go to bed, and he hugged himself, looking at Castiel with big eyes.

“Hey.”

Castiel blinked, feeling an odd sense of calm coming over him. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, looked down, looked back up again, and worked his jaw for a moment before swallowing again.

“Did things go well with Stan?”

Castiel felt like telling Dean everything, every little detail of how Stan had seen this coming from miles away, how Stan had felt about his and Cas’ relationship, and even mundane things like how Stan put cilantro in his chicken casserole and how Castiel enjoyed the taste. And he would, in due time.

For now, he just closed his door and walked up to Dean, putting his hands on the man’s elbows and brushing his thumbs over the soft skin.

“It did.”

“He’s not mad?”

Castiel smiled. “He’s not mad. And you? How are you feeling?”

Dean ducked his head but managed to keep eye contact, the look endearing. “I hashed it out with Sam. It was… tough. I guess? But we’re good now.”

“Is that why he left for tonight? Because you fought?”

Dean looked shyer than Castiel had ever seen him before. “No,” he mumbled, his lips trembling and Castiel realized he was holding back a smile. “Because he said he didn’t want to be here when we had sex for the first time. He went to stay with his secret girlfriend.”

Castiel’s whole body, grace and all, lit up at the mention of sex with Dean. “I…” he had to clear his throat, his voice gravelly with barely contained lust. “I thought you were asleep, that maybe we’d…”

“Yeah,” Dean cast his eyes down, looking demure and good Heaven, had Dean always looked like this? Had he always been able to pull such incredible expressions that made sudden bursts of desire wash over Castiel? Or was it because they were opening up a romantic aspect to their relationship? Castiel wasn’t sure he would survive it and yet he couldn’t wait to see what would happen. “But maybe we could wait a little?” Dean said then and Castiel felt grounded, calm once again. “I’m… fuck, I mean, I’m still a little shaken up.”

“I understand,” Castiel smiled a little when Dean looked at him. “I feel the same, if I’m being honest.”

Dean nodded, his eyes flitting down to Castiel’s lips, despite his earlier words. “But do you maybe wanna sleep in my room tonight anyway? I need...”

Castiel’s grace soared when Dean’s soul beckoned him. “I would enjoy that, I need to feel you close as well.”

“Fuck,” Dean mumbled and took Castiel’s hand, pulling him into his room and closing the door.

Castiel shed most of his clothes, down to his socks, pants, and shirt. Similarly, Dean pulled off his sweats and went to lie down in just his t-shirt and underwear. He shuffled around on the bed and pulled up the covers, inviting Castiel in. With the boundaries of their clothes, Castiel felt in control of his body (for now), and when Dean snuffled in against the pillow Castiel followed with him, rolling so that his legs tangled with Dean’s and he had an arm around the man.

Dean sighed contently, his soul shimmering with joy and Castiel put his face against Dean’s soft hair, breathing him in. Yes, there would be a time for carnal lust, probably very soon, but right now this was exactly what Castiel needed. 

“I’m only the little spoon because we happened to turn this way,” Dean mumbled after a long time spent just reveling in each other’s closeness. He sounded sleepy and Castiel couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, Dean.”

“I mean, if we were to turn around right now you’d be the little spoon instead.”

Castiel pulled Dean closer to his chest. “Do you want to turn over?”

Dean contemplated that for so long Castiel almost thought he had fallen asleep. “No, I wanna sleep like this.”

Castiel grinned widely and his grace sang, exuberant. “Yes, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here's the tea. After EVERYTHING that's happened I was prepared to give Destiel the sex they fucking _deserved_ but when I got to the end of this chapter it was already a monster and I'm tired lol  
So instead of half-assing some sex, I'm gonna make you wait a week for some good old lovin', and I'm not even sorry because this way I can give it the attention and care it needs. So, uh, spoilers for next week I guess lmao  
Until then! ♥♥♥


	9. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> $mutttttt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary says it all lol  
Honestly, this chapter kinda got away from me because apparently Dean had a lot to say and feel and he _really_ wanted to enjoy his angel. So I let him!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this too ❤❤❤
> 
> (fyi, there are still things to be said and smut to be had so there will be at least one more chapter but brace yourself for the end, lovelies)

The first thing Dean felt when he woke up was warm, and safe. But mostly warm, considering he was in his sleeping clothes, under the blankets and with an angel wrapped around him. And hell, Cas was like a furnace on a regular day (Dean liked to think that was because Cas’ grace was working on sustaining him) and in bed like this it got almost unbearably hot. Dean loved it.

It did make him sweat so much it got gross, though, and after a while spent in blissful drowsiness, he started inching towards the edge of the bed. Cas seemed to be out cold but Dean knew the angel was aware of everything that went on around him even when he was meditating. His grace wouldn’t allow him to be surprised unless he was truly unconscious.

But either Cas felt that Dean just needed to leave to take a shower or he was in need of more meditation because he let Dean slide out of bed and leave the room without saying anything, or even moving.

A quick glance on his phone before he padded out of the room revealed that Sam hadn’t left any messages or called and Dean thought that was fine for now. Sam had been so kind as to leave so that Dean and Cas could be alone for the first moments of their new relationship (that was a scary ass word) but since they had basically gone to bed immediately Dean felt like they had some catching up to do still.

Sammy needed some action for himself too, Dean thought as he made his way to the bunker’s shower room. For a few months now Dean had suspected that Sam had someone on his mind and lately he’d been “going out” more often. Dean for his part didn’t know what the fucking problem was, if Sam had a girlfriend he could just come out and say it. But he wouldn’t pressure his brother, though, knowing full well how goddamn tough this shit was.

He brushed his teeth quickly while he let the water heat up and when he finally stepped under the hot spray he let out a sigh of relief. The water pressure was for sure one of the best aspects of the bunker. That and the private bedrooms, with _locks_ on the door. Dean was definitely going to take advantage of that later.

He grinned to himself as he scrubbed down, soap making his skin slippery and smooth. Hell yeah he and Cas were going to both utilize the locks and test the soundproofing of the doors, Sam had done the right fucking thing in making himself scarce and Dean hoped that would continue for at least a full day. He and Cas had _stuff_ to do, and Dean was eager even if he was a bit nervous.

He wasn’t freaking out though, and he was happy about that. Well, truth be told he’d freaked out quite a bit yesterday, for a while during his and Sam’s heated discussion, and then like a motherfucker after Sam had left him. Dean had been a wandering ball of nerves during that period after Sammy drove off and before Cas came back.

Because what the fuck was he doing anyway? Dean and Cas were best friends, why couldn’t he be content with that? What the fuck would he do if this thing didn’t work out between them? Forget it and move on? Would they be able to stay friends? And then the sex. Fucking hell, Dean was going to _have sex_ with Cas—a _man_—and he wanted it so much but _holy fucking hell_.

Dean had seriously contemplated both jerking off and drinking himself into a stupor. Instead he’d eaten cereal and watched _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_, mind blank. And about ten minutes after Dean had decided that he should try to sleep (he’d been pacing), Cas had come back and Dean’s nerves had smoothed out.

So yeah, he wasn’t freaking out now anymore, now he was nervous in that pleasant way instead. That “can’t wait” way. He even went so far as to clean himself in the ass. Like, _in_ the ass. It was gross and a little demeaning and didn’t go super well since he didn’t exactly have an enema or even a douche but he felt pretty good about himself when he eventually left the shower, towel wrapped loosely around his waist and dick at a comfortable semi.

Cas was on his back on the bed when Dean returned to his bedroom, still in his clothes and with his eyes closed. Dean leaned on the door to shut it, hand locking it behind his back and the sound of the lock made Cas open his eyes. He looked at Dean with an unreadable expression and Dean realized immediately that Cas was trying to gauge Dean’s reaction to seeing the angel still in his room.

Well, it was pretty fucking good, okay? Seeing Cas in his bed made Dean’s whole body feel hot, his blood rushing faster, and they weren’t even doing anything. He felt a little shaky, though. Not so much of the things he’d freaked out about the night before but just because… well it was a big deal, wasn’t it?

Dean hadn’t really had sex with someone he was in love with before. Well, he supposed Cassie and maybe Lisa? (at the time he had thought he was in love with her, at least) But with Cas it was different. Not so much because Cas was a man (he’d already freaked out about that, right?) but because it was _Cas_. He was an _angel_ and he was… he was so fucking special.

Dean didn’t want to mess things up and yet all he could think about was Cas messing him up, in a good way.

He didn’t know what to say to make that happen, though. For all the sex he’d had in his life, this situation made his words stick and his heart thump harder. He almost felt like a virgin and in a way he supposed he was, having never touched another man before.

Without thinking he loosened the towel slowly, keeping eye contact.

“Cas,” he murmured, all other words seeming too big all of a sudden. 

The angel was up and out of the bed in an instant, coming over to stand in front of Dean just as the towel slipped to the floor. Dean could feel his dick bob gently and he felt so hot he thought Cas had to feel it, even with the few inches still left between them. Cas’ eyes were on Dean’s face, though, looking almost enthralled.

“Dean, I have waited…”

For Dean to come back from the shower, for him to get his shit together, for them to be together. Dean could hear the unspoken words, unspoken feelings and yearning, in Cas’ tone and it made him nod because yes, yes Dean understood and yes, he’d waited too.

He put his arms around Cas’ neck, hands in his fluffy hair. “I want you,” he stated as steadily as he could, which turned out to be surprisingly steady. Dean felt proud of himself and even more so when Cas pulled in a sharp breath.

He seemed to grow, as if his grace was gathering, pulling him up and making him appear larger and more commanding and Dean trembled with anticipation.

It was Cas who initiated the kiss this time, stepping in so that Dean’s happy dick got pressed against the angel’s pelvis and making Dean moan into the kiss. It started out close-mouthed as all their previous kisses and Dean eagerly pressed back. It felt different now, away from the desperate sadness that had come over him yesterday at the thought of Cas leaving, Dean felt free to simply taste Cas and to experience how that made his body react. And fucking hell, it felt _so good_.

Cas’ lips, soft and yielding, fit so goddamn well against Dean’s and when Dean poked out his tongue to swipe it against Cas’ mouth he felt a thrill both at the taste and the feeling. Cas sucked in a big breath, pulled out a hair’s breadth, and then dove back in again, mouth open this time.

And though it was Dean who put his tongue in Cas’ mouth first (fucking glorious), it soon became evident that Cas was the one directing the kisses. He turned their heads, curled their tongues together and made Dean’s legs weak with desire. The taste of him was fresh even though he’d been sleep-meditating the whole night and Dean moaned when he thought it was because of Cas’ grace and what if this was what his grace tasted like? Could it have a taste? Dean wanted to know, wanted to know and experience everything Cas had to offer.

He pulled on the angel, making them press harder against each other as the kiss intensified, rubbing against Cas and he felt a jolt of pleasure go through him when he felt that Cas was getting hard as well. The angel had his hands on Dean’s sides and back and they felt huge. Dean was by no means a small man but in Cas’ hands he felt delicate and it made him burn for the angel.

Dean broke off the kiss with a gasp when Cas grinded against him, Dean’s dick dragging against the material of Cas’ pants, and Cas took the opportunity to kiss Dean’s jaw. He mouthed against it, licking up and behind Dean’s ear and Dean’s legs were trembling, his dick rock hard, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to fuck or kiss the most. Preferably they could do both at the same time and he wanted it _now_.

Pulling on Cas’ hair made the angel groan and Dean felt the sound like a vibration going through his whole body and he moaned in response, clutching at Cas and grinding back against him.

“Fuck, I want you so much,” he growled out, surprised at how much his arousal affected his voice. “I know we probably have more to talk about and shit but I _need_ you.”

“I want you too,” Cas said, curiously breathless already. “Dean, I can’t—” he groaned again when Dean bent his head to kiss Cas’ ear, nosing over to his cheek until Cas turned his head and they were kissing again.

It was getting sloppy now, their urgent desire making them move faster, choppier. Their mouths bumped together, tongues curling again, and Dean more than happily yielded power to Cas, letting the angel steer their kisses as well as the movement of their hips.

“Fuck yeah,” he gasped out when they broke off the kiss. “Fuck me.”

“Dean,” Cas pressed out, hands coming down to squeeze Dean’s hips, thumbs against his hip bones. “How do you want it?”

How? Dean hadn’t thought that far ahead and really, aside from prepping, how much planning was even required?

“I don’t care, as long as you’re inside me the position doesn’t matter.”

Cas pulled out and looked at Dean with wide eyes. “You want me… inside _you_?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean rolled his hips against Cas’, showing off his impressive erection. “Thought that was pretty obvious by now?”

“I-I just…” Cas pulled in a shaky breath and grabbed Dean to pull him impossibly close. “I just never imagined that you’d give yourself to me like that.”

“Oh,” honestly Dean had never imagined it any other way. “Well, um, just…” fuck he felt unexpectedly shy all of a sudden, go freaking figure. “You’re the first one so be fucking careful, that’s all.”

“The first?” Cas murmured against Dean’s ear, tone reverent, and it made Dean squeeze his eyes shut as his heart felt fit to burst.

“First and only,” he whispered, voice raspy. “Make it fucking count.”

That made a shudder go through Cas’ body and Dean felt immense pride and arousal at the thought that he’d made that happen; _he_ was the one who made stoic Angel of the Lord Castiel flip his switch during sex. Dean was a fucking sex god and not even the little yelp he let out when Cas fucking _picked him up and carried him to the bed_ could refute that.

“I will be careful,” Cas intoned, voice steady but eyes wild as his grace sparked through him. “I will never hurt you,” he climbed on the bed after he’d positioned Dean on it, buttons flying as he ripped off his shirt. “I will show you only pleasure, Dean.”

“Holy shit,” Dean squeaked, watching with big eyes as Cas threw his shirt to the side.

His legs easily fell open to invite Cas in between and he felt vulnerable for about a millisecond and then Cas was there, spread out over him and kissing him again. Fucking _yes_, they were on Dean’s bed, both mostly naked and definitely hard and kissing and Dean was about ready to fucking pop right now.

“I want you like this,” Cas murmured against Dean’s lips. “I want to see your face.”

Dean nodded, unable to speak properly after getting kissed like that. He flailed out to the side, pointing at his nightstand and he saw that Cas noticed but the angel just grabbed Dean’s jaw and went in for another dominating kiss. He thrusted his tongue inside even as he grinded down with his hips and Dean moaned right into the kiss, body going pliant as Cas undulated against him.

Cas still had his pants on, though, and even if Dean was pretty goddamn certain he would come the moment he felt Cas’ dick against his he still wanted the pants off. He pawed weakly at them, strength draining the more Cas kissed him and his moaning turned in to desperate whines.

“Naked,” he demanded as soon as Cas pulled away to look at him. The angel licked his lips and fucking hell, Dean could feel his dick dribble out precome, his balls pulling tight for a moment, at the sight of his dorky little angel acting like this.

Then Cas nodded and climbed off the bed. His pants and underwear were off in the next moment, too fast for Dean to prepare himself and he had to grab his own dick when Cas’ sprang free. It was thick and long and absolutely red from arousal. It swayed gently when Cas walked over to the nightstand, hard and with a head that glistened with precome.

Dean couldn’t stop staring. It was a regular size dick (Dean guesstimated) but it also seemed huge. Both because this was Cas’ dick and it was hard, because of Dean, but also because it was supposed to go inside Dean and holy fucking hell, _it was going to go inside him_. His ass clenched just thinking about it but surprisingly the feeling wasn’t bad. It made him groan and pull his legs up and Cas looked up at him just as he found the lube, eyes pleased as they raked over Dean’s body.

“Something you want to say, Dean?”

“Fuck me,” Dean panted for the second time, jacking his dick slowly in a loose grip. “Fuck me now, Cas.”

Cas’ lips twitched and Dean realized the angel was trying to not smile. He probably thought Dean would think he was laughing at him but fucking hell, Dean so got it. The fact that Cas wanted Dean back made Dean want to grin like a maniac too. So he did. He smiled widely up at Cas and bent his legs even further, pulling up so that Cas could look his fill if he just stood in the right spot.

That sure as fuck got Cas’ attention and he hastened with getting on the bed again, long limbs easily folding to fit between Dean’s legs again and Dean rested his thighs on Cas’ as the angel shuffled forward on his knees.

And fuck but Cas was a sight for sore eyes. Not just his full balls and uncut cock, crowned with a tuft of black hair, but his whole body. Strong thighs, lean arms, a flat stomach (with that angel repellent tattoo to the side) and nipples perky enough to rival Dean’s own. Dean wanted to lick them.

And the best of all, Cas’ eyes. Or his lips. Or wait, his _hands_. Dean couldn’t decide and he had to close his eyes for a moment when a rush of _want_ went through him, making his body jerk. Cas was _his_ and Dean could barely believe it, even now when they were in the middle of preparing to have sex and Cas’ dick was drooling precome down on Dean.

Cas’ right hand was big on Dean’s inner thigh, a burning desire erupting from the sensitive skin as Cas swiped his thumb over it.

“I have to stretch you.”

“Yeah,” Dean said breathlessly and opened his eyes again, looking up at Cas. “I know. I cleaned myself.”

That made Cas smile affectionately and Dean’s chest felt too small for all his emotions.

“I will be as thorough as I can but I’m reaching my limit.”

Dean felt a shiver go through him. Cas reaching his limit? That sure as fuck pushed Dean towards his as well.

“You don’t have to narrate,” he almost whispered, watching with big eyes as Cas opened the tube of lube and squirted out some.

“I think we both know that I do,” he answered calmly, though there was a certain twang to his voice. An edge that exposed that limit and its imminent approach.

Dean didn’t say anything more, both because he agreed (despite his own words) and because Cas put his fingers to Dean’s hole in that moment. Instead he just gritted his teeth and tried to spread his legs even wider and relax his hole at the same time.

Cas didn’t press inside immediately, though. Instead he just massaged around the rim, getting the puckered flesh there soft and pliant and Dean let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, relaxing for real. Cas had put his other hand on Dean’s hip and Dean could feel tremors going through it but the fingers that touched his most intimate area were steady and calm and it made Dean rest back and open up for the angel like nothing else.

It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to have Cas inside but it was still new and scary, and not just because it was an intrusion he wasn’t used to. Because fuck, this was _Cas_, and Dean had been in love with him for so long and then almost lost him and now they were here and they were doing this and Dean had never been happier but at the same time it was scary. And Cas seemed to know that (probably felt the same), so he was careful and sweet and it made Dean so fucking on edge but in a good way.

He was soon rocking on the bed, not quite bucking against Cas’ fingers but definitely pressing against them, wanting more. His dick was hot and hard in his lose grip and Dean had stopped stroking himself because his brain couldn’t focus on that and Cas’ fingers at the same time and it was probably a good thing or he was sure to come too fucking soon.

It was only when Dean clenched his legs around Cas’ waist that the angel pressed the pad of his finger against Dean’s hole. He looked up, pausing there at the crest of it all, right before the moment that would mark the point of no return, eyes boring into Dean’s soul and Dean didn’t know how to but he wanted to lay himself bare for Cas. Wanted him to see everything, his every wish and desire and how his fucking _soul_ longed for the angel.

Cas pulled in a little gasp then, and Dean thought that yeah, perhaps he’d managed that pretty fucking well. And then Cas was pushing his finger inside and Dean stopped thinking beyond “holy shit he’s going inside I gotta fucking come but I gotta fucking _wait_”.

He used only one finger to start with and that was probably for the fucking best because Dean had seen Cas’ fingers and they were slender but right now he felt like a fucking log. So wide and big and what the fuck was _that_?! Was that his fucking prostate?!

A flare of pleasure went through him and he made a gargled sound when he moaned and gasped at the same time, eyes wide as he stared up at Cas.

Cas just smiled down at him, though his flushed neck and bobbing cock revealed exactly what he felt about Dean’s reaction. He moved his finger, easily finding that spot again and Dean threw his head back, bucking down on Cas’ finger when new pleasure erupted inside him. It burned hot, searing through him, and he gripped the base of his dick hard, feeling his balls rising and precome bubbling up the longer Cas kept pressure there.

When he pulled out his finger, Dean all but collapsed down on the bed, panting. His nipples had hardened so much they almost hurt and he released his pulsing dick to pinch them. It made another kind of pleasure go through him and he gasped shallowly, keeping eye-contact with Cas as the angel poured on some more lube and pressed inside again.

Fucking hell, if Dean had known anal fingering could make him feel like this he’d tried it years ago. But he supposed it was made even more special by the fact that it was Cas doing it to him and he watched with both adoring and lust-filled eyes as the angel looked down, thumbing at Dean’s hole even as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. It was clear to Dean that the angel was both fascinated and aroused by what he saw and Dean took perverse pride in making the angel feel like that with only his body. Just fucking wait until Cas was inside Dean, his mind would be fucking _blown_.

And just like that he almost blew it himself. The thought of what Cas’ dick would feel like inside him and the thought of what that might do to Cas, made Dean’s whole body surge with pleasure and he arched off the bed with a groan.

“More,” he pressed out when the immediate arousal simmered down. “Fucking hell, Cas, give me _more_.”

“You’re spectacular,” Cas murmured and pulled out only to press against Dean’s hole with two fingers instead. “You’re taking me so beautifully, does it hurt?”

Dean hadn’t even registered that that was a possibility. “I—fuck—I dunno.”

Cas immediately stopped, fingers pressing right _there_ but not inside and Dean’s dick throbbed desperately.

“Answer me, Dean. I will not do this if—”

“It doesn’t hurt!” Dean hissed, raising his head to stare straight at Cas. “It doesn’t hurt, but I’m fucking overwhelmed and I haven’t ever felt like this during sex and it’s freaking me out but I love it and I-I—”

Cas thankfully shut up his rambling (what the fuck had that been about?) by bending over him and kissing him. Dean immediately grabbed at Cas’ shoulders, opening up and eagerly tangling his tongue with Cas’. They rocked together, their bodies moving up the bed, and Dean almost missed the moment when Cas pushed two fingers inside him. Almost, but not quite.

Because fucking hell, that was such a stretch compared to one and Dean almost whined into the kiss but managed to swallow it in the last second. It burned, though, and he made a face that he knew Cas could feel against his lips. It made Cas pull back and sit on his heels again. He looked flushed and out of breath even if he was breathing normally and the look was so fucking good on him that it distracted Dean well enough.

Until Cas lightly grabbed Dean’s dick at the same time as he pressed his fingers further inside. The thought that that was Cas’ first time touching (actually _touching_) Dean’s dick made him shoot off the bed again, a pleased moan clawing its way up his throat and he closed his eyes when pleasure tumbled over him.

“Spectacular,” Cas repeated and started stroking Dean’s dick shallowly as he pumped his fingers in and out and fucking _hell_, the pleasure was sharp now.

Dean’s dick felt too sensitive already and his balls were high up, almost too high. He kept rolling with Cas’ motions now, wanting the angel deeper, and though Cas was brushing against Dean’s prostate almost non-stop he wasn’t _pressing_ against it and it was driving Dean nuts. Bet with Cas’ thick cock he would be able to press just fucking right.

He opened his eyes when Cas pushed against his prostate almost as if he knew what Dean was thinking. The wave of pleasure made him choke on an incoming breath and when his eyes landed on the wild look on Cas’ face he choked again.

The sound made Cas look up at his face and Dean had to fucking pinch his nipples again when he saw how the muscles on the arm the angel used to stretch him bunched and strained. Fucking hell, it looked like Cas was really holding back from just fucking Dean to climax on his fingers and that image did nothing good to Dean’s tattered self-control.

“I want you, Cas,” he moaned, voice much less steady than the first time he’d said that today but the words no less true. Perhaps truer now than ever before, considering how he felt right now. Vulnerable, sensitive, on edge, and so fucking desired.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was looking at Dean as if he was a precious gem and Dean felt so fucking coy for the first time in his life. He turned his head, hiding against his pillow as best he could (the pillow that smelled of Cas), peeking up at the angel as he spread his legs wider and bucked restlessly up into Cas’ hand.

“Dean,” Cas grunted, the sound punched out of him. “Oh, Dean, you…”

His cock was leaking continuously now and Dean licked his lips, trying to imagine what it would be like to suck Cas off. What it would feel and taste like, how choking on Cas’ heavy cock would make Dean feel, inside and outside.

He bit his lip and bucked again, the pleasurable waves making him more and more desperate now. An embarrassing sound was ripped out of him when Cas added more lube without telling him, the cold breaking through his mind and pulling him back from the edge. He looked up at Cas (tried to glare but probably failed) and Cas smiled down at him, a shit-eating grin that Dean had never seen on Cas before but that made him climb right back on that edge.

“At least three fingers wide,” Cas explained when he pulled out to add a third finger. He gripped Dean’s dick harder, down at the base, thumb and pointer circled around it as he pressed inside again.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, gritting his teeth. “Fuck that’s…”

“Too much?”

“A bit,” he admitted. Being a goddamn anal virgin was no fucking cakewalk, he thought. “But I still want it, okay?”

“Anything for you, Dean,” Cas murmured sweetly, stopping with his fingers pressed inside, waiting for Dean to calm down and relax his hole.

It was surprisingly easier than Dean thought to relax. He found that he liked the feeling of having Cas in there and with three fingers the pressure to his prostate was much more immediate and constant and he started shifting restlessly before Cas started moving again.

“Grab my hip,” he gasped, squirming to get closer. “Hold me down, use your fingers to fuck me, come on, Cas.”

Cas grunted and put his large fucking hand on Dean’s hip, easily stilling his motions before he rose on his knees to tower over Dean a bit, moving his hand smoothly against Dean’s body. Dean gasped again, one hand reaching to grab at Cas’ knee and the other going to his dick, stroking it again.

Like this, Cas’ cock was pressed against Dean too and he wanted it so fucking much. Wanted that heat and hardness, wanted it reaching much deeper than even Cas’ long fingers could. Pleasure made his fucking _scalp_ tingle when he heard a sound break through his own panted moans and he realized that that was fucking Cas, groaning with pleasure.

When Dean looked up at him, Cas looked bigger somehow, once again as if his grace was slipping out and expanding him, and Dean realized with a shock that that was because Cas’ true form and his wings (however tattered) were so much bigger than this one human body.

The thought made him almost whimper and he suddenly felt so fucking close to coming that he almost went over. Fuck it would be so sweet to come right now, with his angel inside and his dick slick with precome in his hand. He wanted it _so much_ and yet he found himself pinching it off, grunting out a huff as he clenched on Cas’ fingers.

The feeling made Cas pause and he looked up at Dean with shining eyes.

“Fuck you’re fucking good at this, Cas,” Dean panted, trying to gather his wits. “Stan showed you a lot of things, huh? I gotta remember to thank him.”

Cas moved his fingers around, prodding at Dean’s inner walls and prostate as if he didn’t know how close Dean was to blowing his load.

“Stan and I never had sex,” he answered way too fucking calmly. What the fucking hell? He looked like he was two seconds away from creaming all over Dean but his voice sounded as if they were discussing the weather. And why was that so fucking _hot_? “We exchanged hand-jobs and I sucked him off once, but we never had sex. Stan suggested it was because I was hung up on you.”

Dean’s heart almost beat out of his fucking chest. “Really?” he did _not_ squeak (he did).

Cas slowly pulled out, reaching for the bottle of lube again. “Yes. And now, here with you like this, I know he was right. I never want to do this with anyone but you ever again.”

Dean was not going to be a wuss who started crying during sex but it came damn near in that moment, okay?

“Get your dick in me right now, Cas.”

Cas squirted lube on his right hand. “Yes, Dean,” he looked contemplating for a moment and Dean was about to burst from both nerves and the _need to fucking come already_. “Condom?”

“No,” Dean pressed out, fucking breathless for some goddamn reason. “We’re both clean, right? I wanna feel you raw in me.”

That made a shiver go through Cas and Dean relished it, the signs that Cas _was_ in fact nearing that limit he’d mentioned a million years ago. And fucking hell, the groan Cas let out when he first took his cock in his lube-smeared hand was better than any porn Dean had ever heard. He let his head fall back and just stroked himself for a while and Dean simply laid there, dick in hand and stroking with him. And again, Dean felt like he could come like this and be happy. It was their first time, after all, they would have plenty of other times to—

“Stop before you come,” he rasped, grinning when he saw Cas grin. “Or before you make me come, looking like that.”

“No,” Cas murmured and let go of his own cock only to grab Dean’s hand, pulling it from his dick. “You’ll come on my dick.”

“Fucking hell, _yes_.”

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Cas said, tone serious even through his obvious arousal, and Dean nodded as they shifted on the bed so that Cas could stretch out over Dean even as he positioned his cock at Dean’s loose hole.

There was a slight resistance, Dean sucking in a breath when he should breathe out, and Cas’ cockhead felt massive for a moment, but then Dean released his breath and Cas rolled his hips up, his cock slipping inside. The feeling punched out a groan from Dean and Cas answered it with a soft little gasp as he let himself slide up to the hilt in the same motion. It felt natural and smooth and when Cas was balls-deep, Dean grabbed the angel’s hair and turned his head so that they could kiss again.

In contrast to how desperate the kiss turned, their bodies remained mostly still, aside from Dean pulling up his legs and Cas sinking down against him. They both let it continue for a while, clearly in need of the closeness. Dean’s dick quivered between them as the kisses intensified, and Dean pulled away, gasping sharply at the thought of Cas’ skin getting slick with Dean’s precome.

“How do you feel?” Cas asked gently, clearly gearing up to move and Dean felt a burst of happiness go off inside him like fireworks.

“I…” he looked into Cas’ eyes, thinking that fucking hell, _Cas was inside him_. Cas’ _cock_ was inside Dean and they were fucking lovers now and Dean would rather fucking die than ruin this. “I feel like that Djinn we hunted months ago caught me and has me strung up somewhere.”

That made Cas frown for a moment and no shit, that didn’t make a lick of sense, did it?

“Do you mean because you are so happy it feels like a Djinn dream?”

Dean shuddered under Cas, pleasure warring with cautious happiness. “Yeah.”

That made Cas smile and fucking hell, Dean thought he would come from the relief alone. Cas understood him because Cas was Dean’s angel and he would always understand him, and Dean didn’t know why that was a kink but it fucking was and oh shit, Cas was moving so that his stomach grinded against Dean’s aching dick.

“I feel the same,” Cas whispered against Dean’s mouth as he moved to gather his legs under him again, hands on Dean’s hips, gripping him so that his fingertips dug in against the meat of Dean’s ass. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasped, hands gripping Cas’ sides as the angel rolled his hips slowly, testing the give.

“I’ve loved you for a thousand years,” he said, his voice getting curiously rumbly and Dean was slowly realizing that this was how Cas sounded when he was aroused. “I’ll love you for a thousand more.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut against sudden tears, Cas’ confession washing over him like absolution and suddenly the pleasure he felt when Cas started moving inside him felt secondary to the emotions that buzzed between them.

“C-Cas, I…”

“I know,” Cas shushed him gently, hips picking up speed and making Dean choke on both emotions and arousal. “I know, Dean.”

And he did know, Dean was absolutely fucking sure he did. He could feel it in every touch, every kiss and every reverent word whispered as Cas rocked into him, the pace steady.

He grabbed at Cas, grunting and panting for more but Cas kept to the same pace and it didn’t take Dean long to realize that they weren’t fucking so much as making love and that amped up his need to come like nothing else.

“Fuck,” he moaned, voice high in his desperation. “Fuck, I need to-to come, Cas, I…”

Cas mumbled something unintelligible and sat up more on his knees, rocking Dean back so that he folded into a position he never thought himself capable of. The motion sank Cas in deeply and pressed his cock more insistently against Dean’s prostate and fucking _shit_, this was it.

Dean fumbled for his dick, almost crying with the need to blow, but Cas proved once again that he was everything Dean ever needed, and grabbed Dean’s dick for him. One hand on Dean’s thigh to keep him in place as Cas thrusted incessantly into him, Cas wrapped his big fucking hand around Dean’s dick and started jerking him quickly.

“Oh,_ fuck_, shit—Cas, Imma—”

Dean wanted to watch Cas as he came, wanted their eyes to be locked together and all that romantic jazz, but the truth was that his vision kind of blacked out for a moment and then he was coming, a punched out yell tearing out of him as he stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

He was caught at the edge for a moment, rolling against Cas, into his thrusts and up into his hand and then his dick was erupting between them. Cas made a pleased sound, hand steady as he kept jerking Dean through it, but his other hand clenched down so hard Dean hoped it would fucking leave bruises on his thigh. 

He came for so fucking long, his jizz warm and wet as it splashed over him, Cas appearing to have no control over where it fell even though he was the one directing the pulses. Dean didn’t mind, his brain too blissed out to care about getting come all over himself. And when he was finally done, arched back easing down on the bed again, he looked up and saw Cas’ pleased expression.

“You like that?” he murmured, voice fucking wrecked after that orgasm. “Liked me coming all over myself because of you?”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hips in both hands. “Yes,” he deadpanned, flooring Dean as he started pulling Dean into his thrust.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean groaned, words choppy because of the sudden force of Cas’ movements. “Take what you want, little angel.”

His words made Cas groaned and he closed his eyes, head back as he pushed all the way in and grinded roughly against Dean for a moment before pulling out and rolling into him again a handful of times before he came too. A rumbly growl tore out of him and he almost snarled, teeth gritted against the force of his release and Dean clenched his hole reflexively, hands reaching for Cas as the angel relaxed and all but fell forward.

He caught Cas against his chest, mouth easily finding Cas’ in a post-orgasmic sloppy kiss.

“Stay inside for a moment,” he mumbled against Cas’ mouth when he felt the angel move his limbs. “I wanna feel you.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas murmured, moving them so that they could lie more comfortably.

Dean was still taking most of Cas’ weight but that was fine, he loved feeling held down and caught by the angel. Loved even more how Cas’ breathing was labored and how hot he was, how _alive_. He closed his eyes, cheek against Cas’ forehead as the angel nosed against his neck, a feeling of complete contentment coming over him, even as his own come dried uncomfortably between them.

He snuffled awake some time later when Cas moved to get off him, unaware when he had actually fallen asleep. He blinked to get sleep out of his eyes and grimaced when he moved his legs, feeling stiff. Cas’ smiling face swam into view and Dean couldn’t help how his heart fluttered.

“Hiya,” he mumbled, pulling up his legs and then relaxing them back down again.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“Sorry I fell asleep,” he hummed contently when he felt how slick he was between his ass cheeks. That should probably feel gross but it… didn’t? Dean liked the feeling of Cas on him and in him. “Guess it was taxing, huh?”

Cas chuckled and fucking hell, Dean had always loved it when Cas laughed but he had never really loved it _this_ much, had he? He wondered for a moment if them admitting their feelings and becoming lovers would mean that he would become one of those saps who adored every little thing their boyfriend did. 

His own thoughts made him stop short and snort out a laugh. Cas looked curiously at him and fucking hell, they were still buck naked and in Dean’s bed. Dean and Cas, naked and lovers and _boyfriends_. Dean couldn’t help how he started laughing almost immediately again. 

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, trepidation in his voice and Dean couldn’t have that.

So in lieu of answering, he rolled to the side and grabbed Cas’ stupid face in his hands, kissing him smack on the lips. Cas made a surprised sound but immediate sunk into the kiss, tongue coming out to battle Dean’s when he opened his mouth for the angel. 

“I’m more than okay,” he mumbled against Cas’ mouth, pulling on him so that Cas ended up on top of him again when he rested back on the bed. “I’m your _boyfriend_.”

That made Cas start a little and then a fucking growl tumbled out of him from deep down his throat. It made Dean’s dick twitch and his sore hole clench and he couldn’t help but grin up at the angel. 

“I like that.”

“I can tell,” Dean said smugly.

He shifted them around on the bed so that Cas was between his legs but so that Dean could fondle Cas’ mostly soft dick and balls. Not so much because he wanted another round so soon but because he liked the closeness, the intimacy of being allowed to touch Cas like this.

Cas settled on him, hand brushing up and down Dean’s body and Dean recognized that Cas was doing the same to him and it made him feel mushy as hell. He also felt the unmistakable sensation of Cas’ grace washing over him, cleaning them both, and it made him frown playfully at the angel.

“I thought you didn’t like the feeling of your dry release on your skin,” Cas murmured, though it sounded like a question.

“I didn’t,” Dean agreed, dragging his thumb along Cas’ dick, enjoying the feeling of it in his hand. Who the fuck knew he would be into dicks like this? “But I _did_ like feeling _your_ come in my ass.”

Cas huffed out a smile against Dean’s shoulder, hiding his face for a moment. “I enjoyed staking my claim,” he murmured and that sure as fuck made Dean’s dick twitch even more. 

“Me too,” he almost whispered, meeting Cas’ eyes when the angel looked up at him. Fuck, this up close he couldn’t escape how beautiful Cas really was. He was manly and handsome and all that but he was also so fucking _beautiful_ it took Dean’s breath away. “Fuck, Cas this thing, this… this _you and me_ thing it’s… scary. But it’s also so…” he wasn’t making sense, he knew he wasn’t, and yet Cas looked at him as he completely understood him. 

“I know,” he murmured, pulling himself closer to Dean, their bodies melting together. “I feel the same.”

“I’m sorry I was an ass,” fuck was that tears in his eyes? Dean had already cried over this once, come on! “For so long, I…”

Cas hugged him, bending his neck to kiss Dean softly and sweetly. “We have a lot to talk about,” he said lovingly. “But please give yourself a break, for a little while at least.”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, grabbing at Cas when he pulled back, eagerly searching out Cas’ lips for another kiss. “Yeah, we’ll talk later.”

Because now there was a later, now they had time, and no one could take that away from them. Come hell or high water, Cas was Dean’s now and Dean would take every moment he could to show the angel just how much that meant to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (how many of y'all caught the second song I snuck into the dialogue? This one is a bit cheesier than the last but I couldn't not 🤣🤣🤣)


	10. Heat

Castiel found that he was humming to himself as he made some tea to drink while Dean had his coffee. He had never really done that before, humming. Tunelessly and happily. It made him smile as he dipped the teabag in the hot water, soaking the leafs. 

Beside him the coffeemaker was going through its usual racket, the smell of freshly made coffee permeating the air in the bunker’s kitchen. Dean was busy getting dressed and Sam was still out (they assumed since he had left no messages and wasn’t in the bunker) and Castiel was in the kitchen, making some late breakfast or early lunch (brunch, Dean called it), waiting for his _boyfriend_ to join him. 

Such a big word but still so insufficient when he thought of Dean, Castiel felt. Dean was… he was everything. Castiel smiled again and turned around to lean against the counter, tea mug in hand as he took a sip. It didn’t matter that the water was too hot, his grace alleviated that, but he felt that the tea was still too weak to the taste and he should let the leaves soak for a little bit more. Also, Stan’s tea came to mind and he wondered for a moment if they had any honey. 

Dean came in just as Castiel put down his mug again, intent on adding honey to their shopping list. 

“Tea?” Dean smiled, going to the cabinet to get a coffee cup. “Fuck, you made me PB&J?” he grinned like a child when he saw the sandwiches Castiel had prepared.

“We didn’t have much else,” he said, affectionate as he watched Dean all but inhale one of the sandwiches. “We should go shopping later, or maybe we could call Sam and have him bring home some food.”

“Sure,” Dean said around a mouthful of sandwich, his cheeks bulging out. “And I guess... more tea flavors?”

“And honey,” Castiel stated and poked at the tea bag with his spoon to make sure the water was as saturated as it would be. “Stan put honey in his tea, it was really good.”

“Of course you’d like honey,” Dean snorted, grinning at his sandwich for a moment before becoming somber. “And, uh, maybe a water boiler?” he nodded to the pot Castiel had used to warm his water. “If, um, if you’re gonna have tea instead of coffee and I mean… if Stan’d come visit…”

He was looking resolutely at the pot while speaking and Castiel could feel Dean’s soul and how insecure it felt. Could feel how earnest the man was in his wishes to make Castiel happy but also how he doubted himself and his abilities.

“You would invite Stan over?” he asked, tone low and cautiously happy. “For me?”

“Well yeah, I mean…” he took a deep breath and put the last of his sandwich down on the plate, coming to stand in front of Castiel. “Look, I know I’ve been shitty to Stan but the truth is I was being jealous. He seems like a really great guy, and he was really fucking understanding about us so I guess what I’m trying to say is that as long as he doesn’t hate my guts I wouldn’t mind getting to know him. If you still want him in your life,” he levelled Castiel with a stern look. “As a _friend_.”

That last piece of posturing made Castiel smile. “I do, I really like him,” he put his hands on Dean’s hips, pulling him closer so that they could kiss slowly. Dean was pliant and so very willing to be dominated (just like he’d been so far) and it made a thrill go through Castiel. “But I will always love you more, even he knew that.”

Dean pulled out, looking adorably confused. “What?”

Castiel couldn’t help but steal another kiss and his grace positively beamed when Dean put his arms around Castiel’s neck. They grinded slowly together and Castiel felt years of pent up frustration wash over him like a tidal wave. His grace had been working overtime during the love-making earlier, doing its best to make sure Castiel didn’t come before Dean, but it had been touch and go at some points. Castiel had simply desired Dean for too long (and Dean was definitely too erotic) for Castiel to be able to control himself completely.

“He told me,” he murmured, voice already raspy with arousal. “When I went to talk to him yesterday, he told me he had seen the love between us already from the first time he met you. He was just waiting for it to happen.”

Dean frowned adorably, delicate cupid bow lips turning down in a displeased arch. “I’m not sure I like that.”

Castiel chuckled. “I felt the same, I asked him why he hadn’t said anything,” he kissed Dean quickly to make his frown go away, just a little peck and it thrilled him that he was allowed things like that now. “He told me it was partly because he was selfish and partly because he didn’t think it was his place to force us to love each other openly. He said that he thought that was why Sam hadn’t said anything.”

“Anything to _you_, maybe,” Dean snorted and shifted against Castiel, no doubt feeling Castiel’s half-hard dick against his own. “He tried to talk a lot with me but I was being a stubborn ass.”

“You tend to be a bit stubborn, yes.”

Dean looked like he was gearing up to argue but then all fight left him and he looked at Castiel with sad eyes. 

“I’m sorry, for all the years of… of hurt. I know I suck but I wanna try and do better, anything to keep you here with me, okay?” he smiled gently, almost a little hesitantly, as if he was afraid Castiel would object. “You deserve better.”

“So do you, Dean,” Castiel murmured, hands sliding down to cup Dean’s ass. “We have both suffered, but let’s not suffer anymore. Let’s be happy that we both came to our senses before it was too late.”

Dean nodded, serious. “I couldn’t agree more,” he suddenly got a glint in his eyes and Castiel’s grace almost reared back at the unexpected shift in both his expression and the way his soul shone. “And what do you say we start out by making up for lost time? In a _sexy_ way?”

Castiel had no idea what Dean was talking about but he liked the man’s suggestive tone. He opened his mouth to answer but cut himself off when Dean stepped back only to slide down to his knees in front of Castiel. He brushed his face against Castiel’s already interested groin and it made a surge of pleasure go through Castiel, so sharp his grace almost fizzled out.

“O-oh.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, his usually deep voice laced with desire. “I’ve never sucked cock before so I’m probably gonna be bad as hell but you’re gonna have to deal with it because I wanna know what you taste like.”

“Dean,” Castiel hushed out, feeling strangled by arousal already. He put his hand on Dean’s head, fingernails scraping his scalp as Dean hastily undid Castiel’s belt and opened his pants. “Oh, Dean anything you do to me will be marvelous.”

“Yeah?” Dean leaned in and sniffed along Castiel’s dick, still trapped in his boxers, and it strained to get closer to the man, already fully hard. “I feel the same.”

Castiel honestly didn’t know what had gotten into Dean but he felt he understood it in a way. And more than that, he loved it. Loved that he was allowed to have moments like this with Dean and that Dean was so willing to do things to and with Castiel. Truth be told, if Castiel couldn’t see Dean’s soul he would be nervous the man was just trying to please Castiel because he still felt bad about what had happened between them, and maybe there was some truth in that (Castiel felt something similar, under all his awed love). 

But Dean’s soul shone with desire and happiness so bright it almost blinded Castiel and he let himself be swept up, his grace exuberant as he felt Dean’s love for him wash over him.

“Just be careful,” he ground out, one hand still on Dean’s head and the other gripping the edge of the counter harshly.

“Don’t worry,” Dean grinned, pulling down Castiel’s boxers to his thigh. “I might not have experience but I know not to use my teeth. I’ve had my few shares of BJs before and I know what _not_ to do.”

He took Castiel’s tight balls in one hand, hefting them, at the same time as he circled the base of Castiel’s dick with the other hand, leaning in. And _oh_, his face was _so_ close to Castiel’s hard dick. His _mouth_.

“I meant, be careful because I have no self-control,” Castiel rushed out and Dean stopped moving closer with less than half an inch to spare.

“What do you mean? You fucked me real good just a while back and you had all the self-control in the world then.”

“Dean—”

“Sorry, I meant ‘made love’,” Dean grinned up at Castiel, flicking out his tongue to taste Castiel’s precome for the first time. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck you taste good.”

“I used my grace!”

Dean pulled back, eyes wide in his confusion and Castiel leaned his head back, dick quivering in Dean’s light grip. 

“Huh?”

“I used my grace,” Castiel repeated, slower, and looked down at Dean again. “I didn’t want to ejaculate before properly pleasuring you so I used my grace to stave off my orgasm.”

Dean just stared at him for a moment, surprised, and Castiel’s dick wasn’t calming down in the least. The more time he spent staring down at Dean, with his hard dick between them, the harder it was for him to ignore his suddenly very pressing need to just release all over Dean. Good God, the man would look precious covered in Castiel’s come. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” Dean eventually exclaimed, a smug expression coming over his beautiful features, and he leaned in, flicking his tongue out again. The stimuli, however little, made Castiel hiss. “It was so good you had to put on some kind of angelic cockring, huh? Shit,” he shifted on his knees, removing his hand from Castiel’s balls to rub himself between his legs for a moment.

“You like that?” Castiel asked, voice gravelly with want. “Do you like me losing control over you?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, both hands back on Castiel now. “Yeah I want that. I fucking loved making love to you and all that romance stuff but I want you to fuck me too.”

Castiel’s dick twitched, his groin on fire, and he put his hand on the back of Dean’s head, giving him a small nudge closer. 

“Show me,” he growled and oh there was so much more he wanted to say, so much more _loving_ things he wanted Dean to know. 

But his desires took overhand and Dean seemed to respond very favorably to his commanding tone and perhaps, he thought as Dean sucked the swollen head of his dick into his sinful mouth, perhaps they could do both. If Dean liked it rough and if Castiel needed it rough too sometimes, then what was to say they couldn’t both fuck (as Dean put it) and make love, depending on the mood? Castiel liked that thought, liked that he and Dean were free to explore their sexual chemistry together. 

Dean took him as far in as he could with his inexperience and when he was far down enough to gag Dean without gagging him (he did splutter a little at first), Castiel curled his fingers in Dean’s hair and willed his grace to let him feel this uninhibited. 

It rushed to obey and he gasped sharply, all other brain functions ceasing when he felt Dean work his throat and tongue, drool gathering in his mouth the longer Castiel held him still. Dean’s breathing was harsh, probably both because he was unused to have something in his mouth like this and because he was aroused. 

Castiel wanted to see and touch Dean’s arousal as well but could barely function enough to let Dean pull away when the man pushed to do so. He slipped out of Dean’s mouth with a low noise of regret and Dean grinned up at him, licking his lips and diving back in. 

He swiped his tongue over the head, prodding it into the slit for a moment, and then took Castiel deep in his throat again. This time he didn’t stay there, though, but immediately pulled back again, bobbing his head up and down and Castiel thought he was going to come right in that moment. The feeling of Dean’s heated mouth, wet and warm around him, was simply astonishing and he gasped pathetically as pleasure raked up and down his body, making him tremble with the need to let go and come in Dean’s greedy mouth. 

“Goddamnit, Cas,” Dean groaned when he pulled off, breaking to breathe in harshly. “You taste so good, what the hell?”

He held Castiel’s dick still as he licked down the shaft, letting his saliva coat it all the way down to Castiel’s round balls. They felt full, much fuller than they had any right to be considering he had emptied inside Dean not long ago, and when Dean opened his mouth to take one of them into his heat, Castiel gritted his teeth against a growl. 

“Dean,” he pressed out, feeling his orgasm surge through him as he watched through hooded eyes how Dean’s pretty lips stretched around him, his tongue going over Castiel’s sensitive skin even as he slowly stroked Castiel’s dick. “Oh, Dean, I…”

Dean pulled off with a pop. “You almost look like you’re in pain,” he murmured, tone filled with his own arousal and Castiel’s hips twitched forward. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’ll come if I don’t,” he grunted, hand on Dean’s head shaking but he didn’t want to push or pull, wanted Dean to be exactly where _he_ wanted to be. 

“Yes,” Dean hissed, his soul radiating pleasure. “Come in my mouth, I’ll try to swallow.”

An undignified sound was punched out of Castiel at Dean’s words and he gasped sharply when Dean swallowed him down again, bobbing his head faster this time. Up and down he went, eyes catching Castiel’s and he was blown away by the desire he saw in them, the green dark with lust as Dean fucked his own mouth on Castiel’s dick.

His arousal pooled in his lower abdomen, making his stomach muscles cramp. His thighs shook with the effort of remaining standing, of _not_ fucking back into Dean’s welcoming heat and the knuckles of the hand that was gripping the counter was white. He gritted his teeth again, a growl clawing its way free as he felt the coil in his groin build and build, twinging tighter the more Dean sucked on him. His tongue clever and hot as it snaked around Castiel’s sensitive dick, pressing against the glands under the head and prodding at the vein on the underside. 

Castiel felt helpless as his orgasm swept through him. He could barely warn Dean, aside from a little tap on his head, but Dean seemed prepared enough. He pulled out so that only the head was inside his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue as he stroked the shaft quickly, other hand massaging his balls and in the next moment Castiel came with a hoarse shout. 

He spread his legs unconsciously, looking down at Dean with a wild expression as the man closed his eyes and sucked Castiel’s come out of him. He let his tongue move over the slit just as Castiel released, letting the spurts of come coat the inside of his mouth before he swallowed. 

Castiel trembled so much by the end of it that he almost slipped but Dean was quick to get on his feet and press him against the counter. Dean’s hard dick poked at Castiel’s spent one and he groaned weakly into the kiss when Dean leaned in and captured his mouth. 

The taste of his own release blended seamlessly with Dean’s natural taste and Castiel couldn’t get enough. He sucked in a harsh breath, cupping Dean’s jaw in one and hand grabbing the man’s neck in the other, spinning them around so that it was Dean who was pressed up against the counter, and grinded his softening dick and balls against Dean’s hard erection. 

It made Dean grunt and buck and then Castiel felt warm wetness spread between them. 

He stopped kissing Dean almost immediately, pulling out not even an inch to stare at Dean in wonderment.

“Did you just…?”

“Shut up,” Dean huffed and then moved against Castiel, grinding against him, before he let out a short laugh. “Well fuck, I never thought I’d be coming in my pants at my age.”

Castiel was instantly reminded of Stan saying something similar after Castiel had managed to make _him_ come in his pants too. The connection made him grin.

“Maybe I’m just that good?”

“Cheeky, coming from someone who just came his brains out in my mouth,” Dean countered, his tone dry, but he was still grinning. 

Castiel hummed, nosing closer to steal another kiss, this one not as deep. “I’m not arguing that.”

He felt Dean’s soul shake with joy and he smiled, burying his face against the side of Dean’s neck for a moment, reveling in the closeness and the feeling of the man’s racing pulse. Reveling in his lover’s embrace, his grace at peace for the first time in many years.

*****

Dean went to take a new shower after their little tryst in the kitchen, even though Castiel offered to clean him off. 

“It’s fine,” Dean had said, pecking Castiel on the cheek. “I like taking showers, you should join me sometime.”

Well, Castiel couldn’t argue that, although he hadn’t joined Dean this time, instead going to sit in the library and entertained himself with answering a text from Stan. It was a sweet, if somewhat cautious, text asking how things had gone and truth be told Castiel felt a little bad sending one back in answer stating that everything was fantastic. But Stan’s response was immediate and so filled with happy sentiments that Castiel knew the man had been sincere when he’d asked that they remained friends. 

That made him truly happy and when he showed Dean after the man joined him, Dean beamed at the phone, his soul showing his genuine delight for Castiel’s sake.

“Yeah, he’s a great dude,” Dean said, slumping down in the chair next to Castiel’s, purposely bumping his knee against Castiel’s and leaving it there. Castiel hoped those little acts of intimacy wouldn’t ever stop. “I’m glad you didn’t actually have sex with him though, or I probably wouldn’t be able to look at him.”

Castiel smiled down at his phone, typing out a new text in answer to Stan’s latest one, pretending he wasn’t aroused by Dean’s jealousy. It was much more entertaining when he knew that possessiveness could lead to bedroom activities. 

“I have both kissed him and touched his dick, though.”

Dean frowned and Castiel found that he liked to rile up the man. “But your dick wasn’t in his ass, right?”

“Right.”

“And his wasn’t in yours.”

Castiel looked up, smiling wider at how Dean said it with an upward lilt, forming a question within the statement. 

“No.”

Dean rubbed his back against the chair, crossing his arms with a smug expression on his handsome face. “Good. Because you’re all mine.”

“I’m all yours,” Castiel agreed warmly and put a hand on Dean’s thigh. “You don’t have to worry about Stan, or any other person, ever.”

“I don’t mean to sound like a jealous ass,” Dean mumbled, eyes serious. “It just, I dunno, when I thought you and Stan were having sex it felt like the last straw, you know?” 

Castiel frowned a little, actually not knowing what Dean was talking about. “How do you mean?”

Dean sighed, one hand waving as he tried to express his emotions and Castiel had never been prouder of him. 

“When I thought you were just dating it was one thing, was gut wrenching enough. And I fooled myself for a pretty long time but then you mentioned Stan having a tattoo that isn’t visible with clothes on and my mind went to sex,” he looked at Castiel with eyes swimming with hurt and fear. “And I thought, if you were having sex with Stan too, then you were truly lost to me.”

“Oh Dean,” Castiel murmured, fingers flexing on Dean’s thigh. “I see your point.”

“Yeah, I know it’s a stupid one,” Dean stated, tone suggesting he was fighting his own emotions, and he looked out over the table.

“No it’s not, thank you for telling me,” Castiel leaned over and kissed Dean lightly on the cheek, staying a moment to nose against him when Dean turned into the touch. “And for the record, I know about the tattoo because it’s on his back and I accidentally walked in on him changing his shirt.”

“Oh.”

“So nothing exciting was going on,” Castiel smiled kindly when Dean looked a little contrite. “But that time when I told you about the tattoo, that was…” he drew his eyebrows together, memories swirling, and he felt Dean’s soul shrink with shame. “That was before we hunted for Dagon. _That_ was why you started behaving like you did.”

“Yeah, like a child. I know,” Dean flung up his hands in defeat. “I’m a childish, insecure piece of shit but you know what? You chose me over stable and sane Stan, so the joke's on you.”

Castiel could only grin widely, easily recognizing Dean’s go-to method of dealing with tough emotions. Instead of saying something he grabbed the armrest on Dean’s chair and pulled him closer the scant few inches, making Dean gasp in surprise and turn to him, which Castiel took advantage of by kissing him. 

One kiss led to two, which led to some heavy groping and soon Castiel’s grace was working like crazy trying to keep his arousal in check. But they were interrupted before it could so somewhere too serious, by Castiel’s phone buzzing with an incoming call from Rowena.

Castiel actually groaned in annoyance, which made Dean smirk. 

“You deal with that and I’m gonna go check my phone for messages from Sam,” Dean stated and jumped up from his chair, quickly adjusting his dick. “I’m not gonna poke the bear because I’m enjoying having you to myself for a while but it’s good to know if he’s on his way back.”

“Tell him to buy groceries if he is,” Castiel asked just before swiping to accept the call.

As it turned out, Rowena wanted help with some things for finalizing the spell she was working on to get the mechanism Sam was building together with her working but Sam wasn’t picking up his phone. Instead, Dean and Castiel spent a good chunk of the day dealing with what needed to be done and Rowena left them a few hours later stating that she believed the mechanism would be ready to capture Lucifer soon. Now they just had to come up with a creative way to get to him, preferably without Crowley noticing. 

Castiel started reading a book which he thought might contain an answer to that problem while Dean went to the kitchen to try and make the most of what they had in the fridge. 

He returned some time later but didn’t come into the library, instead stopping out by the map table. Castiel’s grace, ever in tune with Dean’s soul (and even more so now), of course alerted him to Dean’s presence but he was still surprised by the heat that radiated out from the man. 

He looked up sharply, finding Dean leaned against the map table, smirking as he looked at Castiel.

“You know what was always a hot spank bank fantasy for me?”

Castiel closed the book slowly. “What?”

Dean looked down, brushing his hand over the table. “Semi-public sex. Or sex in places where you run the risk of getting caught,” he looked up, eyes smoldering. “Sex on tables.”

Castiel almost gulped. “What are you…?”

Dean turned around, bending over the map table slightly, canting his butt up. And good Lord, that was a round butt. 

“This table seems sturdy enough, don’t you think?”

He wanted to ask what had gotten into Dean but he didn’t need to because truth be told he felt the same almost desperate urge to make up for all the missed opportunities. For all the time spent _not_ having sex or even touching. He felt like he would imagine an adolescent human might feel and he almost relished the freedom he experienced when he was finally allowed to acknowledge his attraction to Dean. 

With that in mind he was up and out of his seat in the next moment, stalking over to Dean and pressing up against him, hands on the man’s hips.

“Are you saying you want me to take you here?” he growled against Dean’s ear, enjoying this little play. “Here, where anyone could see you? Even though you’re _mine_?”

Dean’s breathing hiccupped and he pressed his ass back against Castiel’s crotch. “Want them to see that ‘m yours.”

“I don’t know where this enticing attitude is coming from but I like it,” Castiel nosed against Dean’s neck, up into his hair, enjoying how Dean shuddered against him.

“Yeah? You like me being all meek?”

There was a clear challenge in Dean’s playful tone and it made Castiel grin. “I like you being the you, _you_ want to be with me.”

That made Dean chuckle and he pushed so that Castiel stepped back, allowing Dean space to turn around. 

“In that case I’m gonna be greedy as fuck, at least when it comes to sex,” he grinned widely, his eyes already darkening with lust. “I used to have an appetite for sex, Cas. I liked it, _a lot_. And then you came along.”

Castiel liked the way Dean was rubbing against him, the man’s strong arms around Castiel’s neck as Castiel massaged his ass.

“And I ruined sex for you? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

Dean huffed out a chuckle. “You ruined sex for me with _other_ people. Yeah,” he nodded when Castiel blinked in surprise. “Little by little sex with random strangers lost its edge. I mean, there was a lot of other shit going on in the world and with me, of course. So it was easy for me to blame my lack of interest on that,” he scooted back, sitting on the table and opening his legs for Castiel to slot in between. “Because of that it took a while for me to realize. I wasn’t interested in sleeping with other people because they weren’t as exciting,” he pulled Castiel even closer, his arousal making him hot against Castiel’s already scorching body. “Not as exciting as _you_.”

Castiel felt a wave of pleasure go through him, so much more than just the physical attraction coursing through his body at Dean’s words. 

“Oh, Dean.”

“Yeah, so you better fucking make it up for me, ‘cause the cat’s out of the bag now and there’s no puttin’ it back in.”

Castiel felt his grace respond to the challenge, his great wings slowly unfolding, the pain only amplifying his arousal and desire for Dean’s body, mind, and soul.

“I’ll do that, I’ll do that and more, starting with fucking you over this table.”

Dean shifted, one hand going down to pull out the tube of lube from his jeans pocket. 

“Have at it, tiger.”

Castiel accepted the tube, delighting in Dean’s wolfish grin. “Get undressed.”

“Want me to strip for you?” Dean asked, voice curiously sultry and it did _things_ to Castiel, his already interested dick responding favorably to the sexy drawl. 

“Another time,” Castiel said, stepping back to make room for Dean to get his boots and jeans off. “When I have more patience.”

“Hell yeah,” Dean grinned, making short work of his zipper, pulling down his jeans and underwear so fast they got tangled in his boots.

Castiel watched with lust-filled amusement as Dean struggled to get naked, his dick already perky and a rosy red. Castiel for his part opted to stay mostly clothed, only opening his fly and pulling out his dick, stroking it to full hardness (barely a feat, considering he was looking at Dean’s aroused face), lube ready in his other hand.

Dean practically threw his clothes to the side when he got them off, looking offended at how long it had taken him. Sitting on the edge of the map table, hard dick poking out from under the shirt he was still wearing, he looked like the picture of sin and Castiel couldn’t help licking his lips as he imagined Dean’s taste. 

“You gonna do it like that?” Dean asked, enticingly breathless already. “With your clothes on?”

“If you don’t mind?” Castiel asked, getting down to one knee between Dean’s legs, grabbing the man’s ankles and pushing them up.

“No,” Dean grunted when Castiel made him move up the table, ass scooted in so that he could put his heels on the table’s edge. He leaned back on his hands, the position obviously unfamiliar to him but from the looks of his trembling dick it excited him. “It’s hot.”

“Yes, I imagine it would be, if I had been human.”

Dean’s hole was looking good (and not just in a sexily inviting way). Castiel had used his grace when he cleaned Dean to also soothe the man’s abused hole and it was looking more than okay now. But just to be sure he grabbed Dean’s ass and spread his cheeks even wider, leaning in closer to get a good look.

“No I meant hot as in sexy—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Prepping you,” Castiel answered calmly. 

His grace was swirling restlessly and his body felt as if on fire, arousal making him boil, but just like last time they had had sex he had found a kind of peace in the midst of all the emotions and sensations. Castiel had found (already with Stan) that he truly took great pleasure in pleasing his lovers and knowing that about himself made him feel at peace. 

“N-no, I mean—fuck!” 

Dean’s whole body shook when Castiel put a lube-slick finger to his hole and Castiel thought that he should have warmed it up first but oh well, Dean seemed to enjoy a little urgency to their love-making (defining that as “fucking” instead) and Castiel wasn’t past denying him. 

“I know we had sex recently, and I believe I did a good job of softening your muscle then but I won’t take any chances.”

“Yeah,” Dean all but gulped, leaning back even further, resting his weight on his elbows as Castiel easily pumped one finger in and out of him. “And I appreciate the hell outta that but it just kinda seemed as if you were about to eat me out and I…”

Castiel popped his head up between Dean’s legs, valiantly ignoring the man’s throbbing erection in favor of trying to get eye-contact.

“Were you disappointed that I didn’t?”

Dean’s face flushed bright red and he looked to the side, tried to close his legs and jerked when his inner thighs bumped against Castiel’s cheeks.

“I dunno,” he mumbled, shifting on the table so this his dick bobbed gently. “Maybe?”

That made Castiel grin widely and he shifted closer, pulling out his finger, curling it to make sure he pushed against Dean’s prostate. That made the man groan, his legs falling open again, and Castiel bent forward, kissing his smile against Dean’s balls.

“Then I will do that next time.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Dean gasped, heel almost slipping on the table as Castiel moved up, pressing his finger in again as he licked up Dean’s dick.

“I want to do it all with you,” he murmured, easily catching Dean’s heel, putting the man’s foot on his own shoulder instead. “I want to experience everything.”

“Fuck, Cas…” Dean hushed out, tone vulnerable and Castiel hummed, knowing exactly how Dean was feeling, and not just because his grace had curled protectively around the man’s soul. 

But they would have plenty of time to address that later, for now they both had much more pressing needs so Castiel moved up, swift as he caught Dean’s dick in his mouth for the first time. They both groaned then, Castiel’s own dick jumping and drooling out precome as he tasted Dean’s own sweet release. 

His dick was hard and hot, big in Castiel’s mouth and he greedily took more of it, conscious of the fact that he didn’t _actually_ have to breathe. He did usually do it, when he was in a vessel that would normally require it, but his grace could more than easily help him even if he held his breath so taking Dean all the way down his throat and past where the gag reflex should have kicked in was no feat for him. 

It was, however, a tremendous feeling to have Dean’s dick choke off his air supply. He’d done this once with Stan and though that experience had been great, it was easily overshadowed by this, by having _Dean_ in his mouth.

He felt saliva gather, a deep hum travelling through his throat as pleasure erupted behind his closed eyelids. Dean’s hips twitched, as if the man wanted very much to buck against Castiel’s face but held back. Both notions made Castiel’s arousal burn hotter and he moved up Dean’s dick to start bobbing his head just like Dean had done to him earlier, pumping his finger in and out of the man’s clenching hole at the same time.

“Fuck, _Cas_!” Dean exclaimed, hips moving up despite his efforts to be still. “You fucking know just how to touch me, I can’t fucking—” he bit himself off with a groan, body trembling as he moved unevenly against Castiel, rolling between his mouth and hand.

It wasn’t long until Castiel was three fingers deep, incessantly pressing against Dean’s prostate, and Dean was a sweaty mess, babbling almost incoherently as he rocked with Castiel’s movements. He was close to coming already, Castiel could feel it in his soul’s yearning for release but also in the way he moved and how his body felt. How his _dick_ felt. 

For a moment he contemplated letting Dean come exactly like this, spread out on the table, but there were two factors that stopped him. One was his own burning need to replace his fingers with his dick, and the other was Dean’s wish to be fucked over the table. What they were doing now did of course play into the fantasy Dean had divulged earlier but Castiel could feel how much Dean wanted him inside, wanted more than just his fingers. 

He pulled out with difficulty, though, instantly missing Dean’s heat. Not to mention how difficult it was to let Dean’s dick slip from his mouth, especially when the man let out an almost distraught sound. His dick was quivering, coated in both saliva and precome, an angry shade of red and absolutely beautiful.

Castiel rose to stand on his feet, towering over Dean as he opened the tube of lube to squirt some on his dick, smearing it out.

“Are you ready for me, Dean?”

Dean moaned, voice trembling. “Fucking hell, I’ve never been so ready for anything,” he stretched out on his back on the table, hands grabbing his own thighs as he held his legs to the sides. “Make it quick and dirty, Cas.”

A shudder travelled through Castiel and he looked down at Dean with hooded eyes, stepping in to take hold of Dean’s legs himself, just under the man’s bent knees.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warned as he put the blunt head of his dick against Dean’s hole, marveling at the heat he felt radiating from the man. 

“Fucking perfect,” Dean gritted and tried to rock against Castiel, found that he couldn’t move in the angel’s restricting grip, and closed his eyes moaning again. “Come on, Cas. We did sweet before and I fucking loved it but I want you to ruin me now.”

Castiel clenched his jaws for a moment as he started to press inside, the heat engulfing him, Dean tight like a vice around him. 

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean gasped, throat working as he swallowed, eyes wide as he stared down his body at Castiel. 

Castiel grinned widely, moving his hands to easily maneuver Dean’s legs to rest over Castiel’s shoulders as he bent the man in half, looming over him.

“I know,” he all but growled, slamming in the rest of the way, his hips slapping against Dean’s ass and making Dean arch his back sharply, a cry of surprise and arousal tearing out of him. 

He didn’t give Dean as much time to adjust to his girth this time. His grace tingled through him, anxious to help Dean and he let it, used it to make it so that he could start moving in and out much sooner than last time. And Dean seemed to notice it, even going so far as to grind back against Castiel when his grace pulled away, chasing it with his body. 

He gripped Castiel’s wrists when he wrapped his hands around Dean’s thighs and then they were moving. Sharp thrusts pushed him into Dean’s welcoming heat and Dean’s muscles strained as he flexed as much as he could in the position Castiel had rolled him in. There wasn’t much he could do, though, and Castiel watched greedily as Dean’s arousal climbed, being restrained by Castiel like this was making Dean’s soul radiate with pleasure.

His dick was still as hard, slapping against his own stomach, making his shirt sticky and wet where the head connected with the cloth. Castiel wanted to take Dean in hand and stroke him to completion but at the same time he was curious to see if Dean could come on his dick alone, untouched. The thought made desire flare hotly in his groin and he bared his teeth, driving harder into Dean.

Dean let out a strangled shout at the increased pace and arched his back, releasing Castiel’s wrists to slam his hands down on the table, grabbing the edge and using his own strength to drive against Castiel. Castiel felt as if he would come any moment, the build so painfully pleasurable that he wouldn’t have been able to breathe if he had been a mere human. 

Then Dean suddenly let out a desperate whine and let go of the edge, moving his hand to his dick, stroking it quickly.

_“He reached his limit,”_ Castiel thought almost feverishly, his own orgasm rushing through him at the sight of Dean spread open on him, fucking his own hand desperately. “Yes,” he rasped when Dean locked eyes with him. “Yes, show me.”

Dean made a pained face for a split second and then threw his head back against the table, mouth opening on a silent cry as he let go, releasing all over himself. Castiel stopped moving altogether, pressing in as far as he could and remained standing still against Dean’s body, letting the rhythmic clenching of the man’s ass pull his orgasm out of him. 

He shuddered, letting out a breathless sound as his dick expanded, caught on the edge for a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, and then he let go, pulsating inside Dean as stream after stream pumped out of him and into Dean’s willing body. 

“That’s cheating,” Dean murmured after a long while of Castiel just standing there, relishing Dean’s heat around him.

Castiel pried his eyes open, brushing his hands up and down Dean’s legs as he slowly pulled out, helping him lower them over the edge of the table. 

“What is?”

“Your expression when you come,” Dean answered, tone still low and adoring as he sat up, pulling Castiel closer to bump their noses together. “How am I supposed to act normally around you when I know that your o-face looks like you’ve found rapture? It’s unfair.” 

His words made Castiel’s heart flutter and he smiled almost shyly. “I only look like that because you’re my benediction.”

Dean’s lips trembled, his eyes almost vibrating for a second, and then he kissed Castiel harshly, desperately. Gloriously.

“Fucking shut up,” he murmured between kisses, knees clenching against Castiel’s hips. “_You’re_ my fucking…”

“I know,” Castiel soothed, hands steady on Dean’s back as he held the man close. “I know.”

They kissed again, slower now, and ended up just hugging for a while, both clearly a bit overcome with their emotions still. After some time had passed, Castiel suspected their sex would turn more fun and adventurous, like what Dean most probably had been aiming for this time, but at the moment things were clearly still too new, too fragile. 

“Come on, we gotta check on the pot roast,” Dean said after an insurmountable amount of time, pushing on Castiel’s shoulder to get him to move. He gave Castiel a grateful look when Castiel used his grace to ease Dean’s sore muscles and clean him off. “That’s awfully handy, you know. Don’t think I didn’t notice you using your grace on my ass before.”

Castiel grinned coyly. “Yes, it is. Promise you’ll still love me even if I fall to humanity again and won’t be able to perform such parlor tricks?”

That made Dean laugh out loud and he almost tripped when he tried to pull on his jeans at the same time. 

“As long as _you_ promise to still do kinky shit like this with me when I’m old and wrinkly.”

Castiel’s grace soared at Dean even entertaining the idea of growing old (together with Castiel!) and his grin widened. 

“I promise. I’ve yet to ‘eat you out’, as you mentioned.”

“Dude, don’t use air quotes for sex stuff,” Dean laughed, his soul joyous and bright and making Castiel feel happy and loved. “Now come on, let’s get out of here before Sam comes home and catches me partly undressed and you with your dong out.”

He tossed Castiel a smirk when Castiel looked down, hastily tucking away his soft dick, and then walked towards the kitchen and the smell of the food. Dean’s soul was so pleased with himself that Castiel decided not to mention that he couldn't have been surprised by Sam, since his grace would have alerted him. If Dean wanted to play out a few risky and kinky fantasies with Castiel, then who was Castiel to deny him?

As it turned out, there were more than “a few” fantasies brewing in Dean’s brilliant mind. One of which apparently involved goading Castiel about being “awfully lackluster in your thrusts considering how strong you actually are, Cas” until Castiel snapped and walked out of the kitchen after dinner to fasten the manacles in room 7B up on the wall before going to get Dean.

“You wanted to challenge me?” he hissed against Dean’s ear, grabbing the man by the neck just as Dean was drying his hands after washing the dishes. 

“Fuck yeah,” Dean moaned sinfully, arching against Castiel.

“Come with me,” he said nothing more, his body responding more than favorably to Dean’s reactions as he pulled the man with him, pushing towards the room. “What are you grinning at?” he asked when they stepped into the room, Dean no doubt noticing that the shelves had been pushed aside to leave access to the dungeon beyond. “This is supposed to be a punishment for your insolent behavior during dinner.”

“Yeah,” Dean wriggled in Castiel’s grip and Castiel allowed him to turn so that Dean could press wanton kisses into Castiel’s mouth. “Punish me _hard_.”

“At least pretend to be nervous,” Castiel grinned, breaking character and making Dean laugh as well.

“How the fuck can I when I know I’m the safest with you?”

Castiel’s grace trilled happily and Castiel just shook his head, smiling as he urged Dean to move into the dungeon, past the chair where they usually tied up their enemies. 

Every new experience (sexual or otherwise) with Dean as his lover would be a delight for Castiel, but rimming the man until he came untouched all over the wall, desperately tied up with his hands over his head and face to the wall, buck naked, would forever be one of Castiel’s favorite ones. 

Being interrupted when he was balls deep in Dean, stroking the man’s sensitive dick while Dean cried for a second release was _not_ in his top ten but that was what happened when Sam eventually came home and found them in the dungeon, Dean still secured to the wall naked and Castiel fully clothed and on the brink of orgasming. 

“Hey guys?!” came Sam’s yell moments after Castiel’s scattered grace had alerted him of the incoming problem (so much for not being surprised, Dean was entirely too distracting and Castiel had actually known that from the beginning). “Are you back here? I called but no one answered, I thought I heard a sound?”

Castiel’s dick quivered and he knew he couldn't pull out or he would be coming, but he couldn’t remain where he was either, could he?

“Y-yeah, Sam,” Dean pressed out, clearly in a similar predicament, his own dick throbbing in Castiel’s hand. “Actually don’t—”

“So get this, Rowena called,” Sam interrupted, bursting into the room, all bluster and smiles. “She thinks the mechanism is ready for—_oh my fucking god, Dean_!”

“Why is this only _my_ fault!?” Dean yelled over his shoulder, yanking on his chains, body jerking so hard that Castiel was helpless to stop his orgasm. Hips bucking once, he bowed his head, hiding against Dean’s shoulder as he groaned weakly, dick pumping Dean’s ass full. “Cas? Did you?”

“I fucking hate you both!” Sam shrieked like a little girl and ran from the room, his soul screaming in terror.

There was a moment’s pause and then Dean started chuckling and good Lord, Castiel couldn’t help but follow suit, laughter a low rumble against Dean’s warm skin. So they stood there, chuckling together as they listened to Sam tearing through the bunker looking for “bleach or fucking anything!”, and Castiel thought that he’d never been happier. 

*****

A couple of months later Castiel’s life had never seemed better. Lucifer had been found and consequently trapped, Rowena had used magic to open the Cage and through a series of events mostly centered on sheer dumb luck, they had managed to toss Lucifer into the cage without anyone else getting caught or even hurt. 

Crowley had been mightily pissed but they had managed to strike a deal with him to help him hunt down Dagon’s last supporters and in exchange he wouldn’t try any funny business with Lucifer again. None of them trusted the demon, of course, but things at least settled down again. 

No world-ending threat emerged and they went back to hunting like normal, Sam continuing to build on his network of hunters, something Castiel admired and endeavored to help him with. Castiel even reconnected with his angelic family, and even if the moments spent together often were tense with things unspoken Castiel still felt good about that.

What was even better was his relationship with Dean, which only seemed to grow. Sam commended Castiel one night for finally making an honest man out of Dean, which Dean himself vehemently disagreed with and decided to disprove with fucking Castiel something fierce that night. Not that Castiel minded, he even found Sam’s unimpressed glares amusing, although he felt a little bad for the man. 

Castiel’s and Stan’s relationship as friends only continued to grow, too, and that was also something that made Castiel very happy. Stan was a breath of fresh air when Castiel needed to get away from hunting and monsters and responsibility for a moment (considering both Stan and Val still had no clue about Castiel’s true being or anything else about hunting). Even Sam and Dean agreed that it was nice to have Stan over for “guys night” where it could just be about football or anything else human and seemingly mundane. Castiel was just happy that Dean so smoothly accepted Stan as a permanent fixture in their lives, considering everything that had happened over the previous year.

He supposed it got easier for Dean when Stan got himself a boyfriend, though. Chad was a man around Stan’s age, slim and tanned and witty, with dark eyes and dark hair. Castiel covertly tested Chad to see if he was truly human the first time he met him, protective over Stan, and both Dean and Sam admitted to doing the same when they met him.

But Chad checked out okay and Castiel was happy for it because he seemed to truly make Stan happy. He was a cheerful guy, his overuse of words like “ma’am” and “girl” even when talking to and about men amusing to Castiel. He and Stan had met at the gym but he seemed too slim to Castiel to be a weight-lifter like Stan, so Castiel had assumed he went there to jog (though Dean mentioned it being a great spot to pick up dates). Castiel was just happy Stan shared a common interest with his boyfriend (Chad even seemed to appreciate the same kind of movies as Stan, which was another plus).

For tonight, the five of them had gathered at Tina’s Grill to have dinner and some beer and Stan was more excited than usual.

“Can’t believe Dean and Sam haven’t met Val yet,” he said to Castiel as the other three men went to the bar to order. “It’s been _so_ long.”

“I know,” Castiel said with a smile, thinking about the spunky young woman. She and Dean would get along like two peas in a pod, he had no doubt about it. 

“Hey, Cas,” Castiel looked up at Stan’s suddenly serious tone. “I just wanted to say that I appreciate how easily you’ve accepted Chad.”

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Of course, I find his company delightful. And he seems to make you happy.”

“He does,” Stan smiled sweetly and squeezed Castiel’s arm once, letting go. “It’s just that you’re really important to me but so is he, I’m glad you get along, considering everything.”

That made Castiel grin, thinking he felt the same about Stan and Dean getting along. He nudged his foot against Stan’s, getting the man’s attention. “I feel the same; you’re important to me too.”

“You ain’t sitting here hitting on my man, are you darling?” Chad said cheerfully, plopping down on his seat on the other side of Stan, kissing his cheek as he slid Stan’s beer over to him. “‘Cause he’s taken, you had your shot.”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer but Dean cut him off when he and Sam sat down too, tall glass of beer in front of Castiel.

“Don’t you worry, Cas has all the man he can handle right here.”

Chad looked Dean up and down playfully and Castiel thought with amusement that Dean and Chad’s posturing would never not be funny to him.

“You _do_ look like a handful.”

“Hey! I—”

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” the whole table jerked in surprise (aside from Castiel who had felt her soul when she entered the bar) when Val all but crashed into the table. “Frannie was late and there was traffic and _ugh_,” she straightened, flinging her impressive mane over her shoulder and beaming down at the five men at the table. “But now I’m here, who’s buying beer?” her eyes swept over them and Stan was gearing up to answer her when her eyes caught on Sam. 

Sam, who was staring at her with wide eyes, not unlike a prey staring down the barrel of a gun. Sam, who was red in the face and with his mouth open.

“V-Val?” he all but squeaked and her eyes turned dark with smug glee.

“Well hello there, Sam,” she purred, sashaying up to him, leaning down over him and taking his chin in hand, kissing him smack dab on the lips. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Everyone around the table, Castiel included, stared incredulously as Sam’s already red face seemed to catch on fire. There was a moment’s shocked silence and then Dean burst out laughing, slapping Sam so hard on his back that Sam almost choked.

“_This_ is your mystery girlfriend?” he laughed, grinning widely at Sam’s horrified face. “Dude, she’s fucking _tiny_, you better be careful so you don’t crush her. Be a gent, Sammy, Jesus Christ.”

That made the rest of the table laugh too, especially when Val made a face letting them all know she more than could handle Sam in all his massiveness. 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam hissed, fending off Dean’s hand. “This is why I never tell you anything.”

“Aw come on,” Dean grinned widely, clearly a pleased big brother for several reasons. “Keeping secrets is shit, better to share. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

“Yeah, _your_ secrets,” Sam shot back, making Chad start laughing again.

“Well,” Val said, voice a sultry drawl as she slipped into Sam’s lap so effortlessly they all instantly knew she’d done that a million times already. “Since we’re sharing secrets, how about we tell them about the time you almost fucked me in a public library?”

That made them laugh again, Sam murmuring something along the lines of “kill me now” while Dean loudly declared his love for Val, who was perched on Sam’s lap, looking more pleased than the cat that got the cream. 

And Castiel, for his part, could do nothing but smile as his grace wrapped tightly around his little family, reveling in the love that they all shared. It was almost too good, and fear gripped him for a second at the thought of how easily it could all be ripped away, how he could somehow loose the most important thing in his life. 

But then Dean took his hand, squeezing it tight as if he sensed Castiel’s emotions, smiling. And looking into Dean’s loving eyes made Castiel feel calm again, as it would for the rest of their lives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so with this we come to the end of this journey! Thank you for reading and for showing me incredible support, you're all simply wonderful!   
A special thank you to Elisa and BeeCas, who are both very dear to me ❤️ 
> 
> I hope to see you all again in my next project, thank you once more for keeping me company! And if you are able and willing, please don't hesitate to drop by this [this Twitter post](https://twitter.com/SPNzation/status/1116229601540419586) to donate me some coffee! 😄 
> 
> Until next time!   
xoxo zation


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